


Katekyo Archive

by Kyogre



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyogre/pseuds/Kyogre
Summary: Collection of KHR oneshots, mostly from tumblr.1. Writer and editor AU (R27)2. Ordinary Middle School Student (humor)3. Alaude likes small animals4. Odd friendship (R27)5. Valentines exchange 2018 (K27)6. KHR exchange 2016 (2700)7. Marriage (X27)8. Dating sim (humor)9. Kyoko time travel10. Time travel, feat. Simon (humor)11. Summer exchange 2018 (Haru27)12. Halloween exchange 2018 (27&69)(Also, please check out my multi chapter KHR stories on FFN~)





	1. Writer and editor (R27)

**Side A: The World's Greatest Writer**

"Dame-Tsuna, I need inspiration."

In the one year, five months and twelve days that Sawada Tsunayoshi had been working as the editor for "Reborn," the so-called greatest writer in the world, Tsuna had learned very well that those words never meant anything good. In fact, they always meant trauma and humiliation and often fear of death.

Not necessarily Tsuna's death, mind you. Reborn had, on more than one occasion when writing a murder mystery, idly mused about actually carrying out the murder and seeing what would happen.

'No, don't think about that,' Tsuna told himself. 'We're not on murder mysteries right now. Or even thrillers or spy novels or action stories. No one is going to die.'

Someone might get their life ruined, again, since they were in a romance novel phase. Fortunately (if you looked at it in a certain, twisted way), Tsuna no longer had a significant other, after Reborn's last romance writing binge, when he decided to use Tsuna's relationship as inspiration. Needless to say, the relationship did not survive the experience.

Well, it wasn't like Tsuna had much time for dating anyway, the editor himself thought with a sigh. Reborn was what one might call "ultra high maintenance," and one year, five months and twelve days was one year, four months and eleven days longer than any other poor soul had lasted at the job.

"Does that mean your manuscript will be late?" Tsuna asked mildly.

Reborn tilted his head over the arm rest of the couch he was sprawled out across to glare balefully at his editor.

Unlike his immaculate, stylish public appearance, at the moment Reborn looked only marginally better than an unwashed college kid — by virtue of his naturally good looks alone. The bright orange pajama top with little dinosaurs was the absolute clincher, but at least it wasn't a mascot costume or a space suit or a full wedding gown. Tsuna was long past gaping at anything Reborn wore, especially in the name of "inspiration."

"Who do you think you're talking to, Dame-Tsuna?" Reborn said. "I have never delivered a manuscript late in my life, and I never will... no matter how substandard my editor's support."

So he was still sore about Tsuna refusing to fly to Italy and back just to get him a serving of his favorite cake. Even a natural doormat like Tsuna who never turned down a request had reached his limit for indulging Reborn's bizarre whims well within the first month of employment.

"But I need inspiration," Reborn circled back to his original point. Tsuna silently sighed — he'd been hoping to escape that particular phrase.

"What part are you on?" Tsuna asked, giving in to fate and settling in the armchair across from the couch. He felt vaguely like a therapist, except that trying to understand what went on in Reborn's head was bound to drive anyone to frothing madness.

"The date scene, the date scene!" Reborn replied in irritation, gesturing sharply with one hand. "He can't think of anything, so I can't either!"

"But the main character is a smooth womanizer. I can't imagine he'd have trouble coming up with a date idea for his love interest," Tsuna said. Or at least, that had been the setup last time Tsuna checked. With Reborn, he could have revamped the entire story within the last two days.

"It's because he's a smooth womanizer that it's not working," Reborn said. "He can come up with the perfect date, but it's all fake. He's done it hundreds of times before, and none of it meant anything. But this one is special."

Describing the female lead as special was a bit baffling to Tsuna, since she seemed to be an ordinary girl in every respect. He had even expressed some concern that a mouse like her would be too bland for one of Reborn's stories, but Reborn had waved away the issue, claiming a writer of his skill would definitely be able to capture what made her unique and important.

"I thought about going all out — the most lavish meal, on a landmark, an orchestra playing in the background," Reborn went on, "but that would be just more of the same. It's not right. It's not enough."

"...Maybe you're going about it the wrong way," Tsuna suggested. He waited for a moment, but Reborn didn't shoot him down, only waiting for him to continue. "Well, when I think about that girl, I can't imagine her on a date like that. Lavish food, some fairytale location... Someone like her wouldn't belong there at all. It'd probably just make her depressed, right?"

Reborn was, unbelievably, nodding along, his expression both thoughtful and... chagrined, of all things. "Of course, I should have thought of that..." he muttered.

Warming up to the idea, Tsuna continued, "And that's not what the main character sees in her anyway. Wouldn't it be weird for him too? I guess... for the first date, it would make sense to go back to where it began, figuratively. Draw inspiration from what made him fall in love with her in the first place..."

He trailed off, a little uncertainly. Honestly, he had no idea what he was even talking about. He might have had a relationship before Reborn's last romance phase, but it had been rather lukewarm and lackluster. And before that, there was only his unfulfilled, unexpressed crush on the school idol...

Basically, Tsuna couldn't claim to be experienced in love. Unlike Reborn, who was... well, Reborn. He'd introduced the famous celebrity wedding planner Bianchi as his fourth lover, for goodness sake.

But no matter how completely amateur the advice, Reborn seemed to gain something from it. "What made him fall in love in the first place..." he repeated seriously. He snorted and stood suddenly. "I'll have the next chapter in two hours. And then... we're going to that place you get my favorite cappuccino from."

Tsuna blinked in surprise — not at Reborn's promise of completing his work in just two hours, when he'd obviously been stuck just moments before; Reborn was (in)famous for his insane output while maintaining high quality. Rather, he was surprised Reborn wanted to get that particular cappuccino, and going in person at that.

It had been during the first hellish month when Tsuna was first assigned to Reborn. The legendary author had been more irritable than usual and demanded a drink to incredibly precise specifications that had Tsuna running around the entire city for days straight, until he found the one single place that used those beans, with that method, and that specific balance of creamer...

Caught up in his triumph, Tsuna had shown up at Reborn's penthouse at about three in the morning with his prize. Understandably, Reborn hadn't been amused. When he tried to kick Tsuna out, claiming he didn't even remember asking for such a thing... That was the first time Tsuna snapped, in his entire life, really. He'd threatened to pour the cappuccino down Reborn's throat himself, if the ungrateful jerk wouldn't at least try drinking it.

Shocked into compliance by the outburst from someone he'd seen as a mousy doormat, Reborn had accepted the cup silently. He drank it slowly, watching Tsuna fidget across the table from him the entire time.

"It'll do," Reborn had allowed finally. "You... did pretty good." That was probably the first time since kindergarten that someone honestly praised Tsuna, and his beaming smile seemed to take Reborn aback all over again.

Since then, Reborn only requested that particular drink when he was feeling especially stressed or pleased with himself. Finishing a difficult scene was certainly an accomplishment, but this was usually for special awards or the like. And Reborn had never actually asked where Tsuna got it from. Sometimes, Tsuna even thought of it as a kind of insurance — if Reborn ever decided to change editors, he'd have to give up his favorite cappuccino too.

Still, Tsuna only said, "Okay. But, you know, it's three hours away. Do you want me to just go get it for you?"

"That far, every time, huh?" Reborn mused to himself. He sighed in something like exasperation, but also fondness. "We're going together. Otherwise, it's not a date, Tsuna."

He got up and headed to his office without waiting for a response, leaving Tsuna to start nodding along — that made sense, right? — only to freeze in shock once the words sank in.

"Hiiiiieeee!? D-date?! Us?! B-but why? Reborn, why are we going on a date after you write the scene? Reborn?!"

 

————

 

**Side B: The Spartan Editor**

It was a writer's natural instinct to fail at meeting deadlines. Any writer who actually finished their manuscript on time — or, worse, early — was just a freak of nature. So it was only natural that Tsuna hadn't even started work on the day before the deadline. Right?

...Not according to his Spartan editor.

"Are you slacking off again, you useless writer? You've still got thirty pages to go!" Reborn snapped, punctuating his displeasure with a round from his pistol. How he managed to get a pistol in Japan, and then keep firing it without being arrested, was completely beyond Tsuna.

"Hieeee! This is crazy! You're crazy! There's no way I can finish that in one sitting!" Tsuna protested in tears.

"You should've thought of that before you wasted all your time and got nothing done until the day before the deadline," Reborn said mercilessly.

That wasn't really fair, Tsuna wanted to say. It wasn't like he didn't get anything done at all... just nothing actually connected to the deadline. Another gunshot entirely too close his head made Tsuna bite his tongue and continue to type furiously, even though he wouldn't have been able to say what he was actually writing if he'd been asked.

'This is unfair! Cruel and inhumane! Sadist! Demon!' Tsuna thought, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"You're right, I'm a cruel demon," Reborn agreed. "I'm also your editor, and this seems to be the only way to get you do any actual work."

"You could try being nice," Tsuna muttered. "Why is it always nail-studded stick with you? Why don't I ever get a carrot?"

He expected Reborn to say something derogatory about even rabbits being more productive than Tsuna and that he should whine less and type more. But no cutting remark followed. Instead, Reborn hummed thoughtfully and said, "Okay. If you finish today, we'll go on a date tomorrow."

'A date...? With Reborn...?'

Somehow, the impossibly fast pace of typing doubled, no, tripled.

For a date with Reborn, he'd write with his Dying Will!


	2. Ordinary Middle School Student (humor)

**Ordinary Middle School Student**

On the first Monday of June, Namimori Middle School is suddenly taken hostage by a teenager and his two lackeys. 

He’s pretty weird — “chunibyo,” someone whispers, ‘creepy,’ Tsuna thinks; one eye red, hair like a pineapple, lots of earrings, trident in one hand, and also can apparently make things appear out of thin air. Like lotus flowers, pillars of flame, and tentacles.

When all the students are gathered in the auditorium, with the quiet, orderly obedience instilled in them by their sadly currently absent prefect, the teenage hostage taker introduces himself as Rokudo Mukuro. 

“Kufufufu, please don’t misunderstand,” he insists, chuckling creepily. “I’m not here for some dastardly deed, like trying to possess you or use you to kill all your friends or attempt to start World War III! Who would do something like that, right?”

Mukuro laughs, but he’s the only one. Tsuna can’t help but feel that there, right there, is one person who would. 

“What I want is very simple. Tell me which one of you is a yakuza heir.” Mukuro says this with a perfectly straight face. There is a moment of silence. “Come now, don’t be shy! This is Japan. At least one of you must be! So speak up! You there! There’s no way you’re an ordinary middle school student! Admit it!” 

Mukuro points — perhaps at random, perhaps not — at Kyoko. 

Kyoko fidgets for a moment, blushing cutely. “W-well, you’re right, but… I’m a magical girl,” she admits. “Sorry.” 

This is Japan. It happens. Mukuro jabs his finger toward Hana, sitting next to Kyoko. 

“I’m an award winning writer of children’s books,” Hana says, perfectly seriously. 

Mukuro tries again, pointing to a third-year girl in the back. He probably picks her because of her straight black “ojou-sama” hair. 

“I’m a miko,” the girl says. “I hunt demons.”

“I’m actually an idol.” 

“I’m an alien.” 

“I’m a robot.” 

“I’m a time traveler.” 

Despite his creepy smile remaining completely intact, Mukuro begins to look frustrated. “I prefer a yakuza princess, but a boy will do,” he says. The Nami-Chuu guys exchange looks, shrugging and shaking their heads. They are many things, but secretly yakuza scions they are not. 

“Um, excuse me?” Kyoko says, tentatively raising her hand. “Why are you looking for someone from the yakuza specifically? Maybe one of us can help you instead?” 

“I may have, perhaps, run into some trouble with the criminal society, and may, perhaps, have several criminal groups rather displeased with me. Kufufufu, filthy mafia trash,” Mukuro adds the last part under his breath, like reflex. “So I may, perhaps, be in need of a powerful group’s patronage — preferably as one of their own. One of their family, you might say. So, marriage. And since this is Japan, yakuza. So, yakuza bride.” 

He says this as if it makes perfect sense. 

It does not. Especially the part where he’s apparently okay with a boy “bride” too. 

Tsuna keeps his head down and feels thankful that Mukuro asked about yakuza, specifically. Their creepy school-wide hostage taker hasn’t said anything about mafia heirs, after all, so there’s no reason for Tsuna to say anything about his own position as the tenth boss to the world’s strongest mafia family. 

He does feel a bit guilty about not saying anything when everyone else reveals their secret double lives (Ryohei, a world-renowned shogi player? Who would have thought.), but he promises himself to tell them soon. Just. Not now. Tsuna doesn’t want to become a creepy hostage taker’s mafia princess bride. 

Fortunately, it’s not much longer before Hibari returns from his patrol on the other side of town, and… convinces Mukuro to look elsewhere. 


	3. Alaude likes small animals

**Summary:** In which Alaude is weak to small, cute animals. And brings several home. Except the animals are actually children. 1st gen/10th gen fluff, kinda. 

~.~.~

_ The first one was very small and very fluffy.  _

Being the most intelligent among Primo’s Guardians, it was only natural that Alaude be the one to handle intelligence. While Daemon’s abilities were certainly useful, the man had some rather unfortunate tendencies that made him a far better saboteur — and assassin, for all that Giotto always waffled over such things — but somewhat poor at just gathering information. Also, Daemon lied, constantly, so no one trusted his reports, not even Primo. 

Thus, Alaude was left in charge of intelligence and gathering information. He had an entire network, of course. But sometimes, you just had to do things yourself, if only to keep your fangs sharp. 

That was why Alaude found himself visiting the same park every Thursday for three weeks and counting — the local magistrate did the same, a forty year habit, stemming from the fact that this was where he had met his wife, though for the last two decades or so, he had been using the park and its dense foliage for clandestine meetings with far less attractive characters. 

It wasn’t any surprise that the magistrate was corrupt. Everyone was. The question was only how much and with whom. Alaude had spent the last three Thursdays eavesdropping to learn just that, and so far the results were rather dull, all small time petty embezzlers below Vongola’s notice. 

Sighing to himself, Alaude made his way toward the old oak that was situated just behind the bench the magistrate always sat on — among its branches was the perfect spot for espionage, both hidden and within easy earshot. 

Except that this time, there was someone already sitting among the branches. 

The little boy, tiny, fluffy haired and somewhat dirty, stared at Alaude with the wide eyes of a startled rodent. 

Alaude kept eye contact as he slipped into his usual position. He considered telling the kid to beat it, but there wasn’t much time left until the magistrate arrived, followed by whoever was going to bribe him that week, and Alaude didn’t want to risk putting him on guard. Given his position, the boy couldn’t be seen from the bench or the path either, so it would just be a question of whether he could keep quiet the entire time. 

Well, that, and what the consequences of him hearing the illegal dealings of a high-ranking official would be, but Alaude wasn’t too worried about that. 

Their staring contest dragged on, even as the old man hobbled up to his favorite bench and carefully lowered himself onto it. In a few minutes, a much younger man joined him. 

“Nice weather we’re having, eh?” the younger man, a lower ranking thug from a local gang, commented. 

‘Amateur,’ Alaude thought, not even sparing him a glance. The boy across from him hadn’t so much as twitched the entire time. He was a bit like a squirrel. 

“Getting a bit chilly, I’d say,” the magistrate said blandly. “My joints are getting a bit stiff in the mornings.” 

“Aye, I reckon we’ll all be needing a little extra for the heating, eh?” the thug said, smirking conspiratorially. 

It was almost painful to listen to. So Alaude gave it only half an ear, focusing instead on the boy he was still staring at. He was a bit thin and somewhat dirty, his clothes definitely showing some wear and tear, but not yet rags. He was probably a street urchin, but a new one. Maybe he had come to the park to hide from the more experienced, nastier street rats — there was an impressive bruise across on cheek, under the dirt. 

Reaching into his pocket, slowly and silently, Alaude pulled out the small meat bun he had been planning to eat as lunch. He broke off a piece and held it out to the boy.

The tiny street rat reached out gingerly and took it in both hands. Together, they took a bite and chewed carefully, while the old magistrate and the thug continued their inept negotiation below. 

After the magistrate had departed, Alaude lingered among the branches. It was getting toward evening, and the boy was starting to shiver in the cold air. Without thinking too much, Alaude reached up to pull off his coat and offer it to the child. 

It was adorable. The kid practically drowned in it. He sniffled a little, burying his tiny nose in the cloth and seemingly investigating Alaude’s scent. In an instant, Alaude was overcome by a feeling he couldn’t quite put into words — Asari had been there, he might have been able to help; the Japanese called it “omochi-kaeri.” Roughly, “I’m taking him home with me!” 

Which was Alaude proceeded to do, scooping up boy and coat, jumping down from the tree and setting off on a course for the Vongola manor. The startled squeak the poor child let out as he clung to Alaude only cemented the man’s decision. 

~.~.~

When Alaude set something wrapped in his coat down on Giotto’s desk, Vongola Primo’s only thought was, ‘Please don’t let it be a dead body.’ Then, considering the size of the… parcel?... he corrected himself, ‘Part of a dead body.’

It moved. ‘Part of a live body isn’t good either!’

A small hand tugged the coat lapel aside, revealing a slightly ruffled little face, not particularly distressed or at least not in pain. ‘Oh, it’s just a kid,’ Giotto sighed. 

Then he looked back at Alaude and realized, ‘Alaude just brought me a kid.’ And, ‘We’re kidnapping kids now.’ Still, ‘At least it’s not a dead body.’ 

Without a word of further comment, Alaude turned on his heel and left. Giotto stared after him, sighed, and turned to the boy instead. “Hi there,” he said, smiling kindly. “Do you have a name?” 

“...I’m Tsuna,” the boy said hesitantly, peeking out from the folds of Alaude’s coat. 

“Okay, Tsuna,” Giotto said, “do you have any parents?” 

Tsuna’s expression fell. “They forgot me,” he told Giotto miserably. “I was waiting at the hotel, and they just left without me. I was waiting and waiting, but they never came back, even after summer ended.” 

That would have been about three months ago. ‘Who forgets their kid on vacation, seriously?’ Giotto thought. 

Well, at least it wasn’t really kidnapping. 

“Don’t worry, you can stay with us now!” Giotto said brightly, because really, what else was he supposed to do? Alaude had decided, and there was never changing that man’s mind. Besides, really, who forgets their kid on vacation? For five months? Even the mafia could do better. “We’ll be your new family!” 

And anyway, Tsuna’s smile was simply too cute for words. 

~.~.~

_ The next bunch were slightly feral. _

Alaude and Daemon had left for a meeting with the Estraneo family and returned covered in blood, with three boys and a girl in tow. 

“I take it negotiations did not go as planned,” Primo commented dryly. 

“There weren’t any negotiations,” Daemon said, rather testily. “Because someone went and killed the other party!” 

He shot an extremely acidic look toward one of the boys, who sneered back. "It has nothing with you filthy mafiosi. They deserved everything I did, and if you have a problem with that—"

Daemon ignored him and barreled on, "And this fool insured on bringing them along with us!" He jabbed an angry, accusing finger toward Alaude, who wore no particular expression and definitely no guilt or repentance. 

"We're a vigilante group," Giotto told the boy. Daemon made an angry sound at being ignored, but Giotto just continued to ignore him. "The reason we were meeting with the Estraneo was because of the... unsavory rumors circulating about them. We only wanted to ascertain if we should attack. Can you tell me why they deserved it?" 

The boy bared his teeth in what might have been intended as a smile and peeled back the bandages over his right eye. Giotto easily broke through the illusion he tried to cast — he'd been through Daemon's worst, most vicious hissy fits, a child wasn't going to overcome him so easily — but the power, the pain and anger behind that unnatural red eye made him frown deeply. 

"Your family did that," he stated with certainty, as the boy recoiled a little at his illusion's failure. Reaching out, Giotto ran a gentle thumb over the boy's cheekbone, under the red eye. "I'm sorry we didn't act sooner." 

He had bent down to children's eye level, but now Giotto straightened and beamed. 

"So," he said, "what are your names?"

"No," Daemon declared immediately, before they could answer. "We're not keeping them. No! That one fluff-headed brat is bad enough. These, these..." He couldn't seem to find any insult suitable. "They're half rabid! They'll probably slit all our throats in our sleep!" 

Well, Giotto expected they might try. It was fifty-fifty, really. They really did look like half feral dogs — or puppies, at least. Abused and bitter at every human that dared hold out a hand. They'd bite it before it could strike them again, or so they thought subconsciously. In consideration of that, Giotto didn't reach out and pat them on the head, even though he really wanted to. 

"Oh, you're worried?" he said instead, very brightly. "He is very impressive, isn't he? Maybe he'll make a better Mist Guardian for Vongola, if you think he can beat you, Daemon..." 

Daemon made a choking noise and stalked off with a snarl. Honestly, he was always so overdramatic. It wasn't like Giotto wasn't going to have them carefully monitored. 

"So," he repeated, "what are your names?"

They did, actually, try to slit everyone's throats. Or, well, possess the maids and have them do it. Needless to say, they were easy caught in the act, and Giotto gave them a very stern talking to. But it was probably Tsuna's adorable, pitiful tears that made more of an impression. Apparently, even paranoid Mukuro couldn't find anything threatening about Alaude's first stray. 

~.~.~

_ One had a biting problem.  _

Bursting into Giotto's office, Lampo scrambled to his boss's side and tried valiantly to hide inside the folds on his cloak, or possibly under his desk. Giotto watched the spectacle with some bemusement. 

"...What did you do?" he asked finally. 

Lampo was too worked up to even complain by the automatic assumption of guilt. “Alaude… split in two! He, like, budded! There’s two of him!” the Lightning Guardian wailed instead. 

‘Asexual reproduction?’ Giotto thought. ‘Well, I guess it makes sense…’ It seemed to fit Alaude somehow… ‘Wait, no. What?’ 

Next, Daemon swept in through the still open door, a deeply forbidding expression on his face. “It bites,” he hissed, conveying some meaning Giotto wasn’t quite getting. Lampo whimpered. 

“...Okay. I’ll talk to him,” Giotto said finally. 

~.~.~

Yes, Alaude had apparently somehow spawned overnight, and yes, it did bite, though not literally. ...Hopefully. Alaude’s tiny, dark-haired copy bared its teeth at Giotto was he approached the training ground where the boy and Alaude had been… bonding? Trying to maul each other? With Alaude(s?), it was really about the same thing. 

Alaude had prevailed, it seemed, since the poor boy was wrapped in what looked like several tonnes of chain and handcuffs. That didn’t really make Giotto feel that it was safe to get within arms’ reach of him, though. 

“So,” Giotto said, turning to his Cloud Guardian with a pleasant, expectant smile. “What’s his name?” 

There was a moment of silence from Alaude. 

“Does he have parents?” Giotto pressed. 

Again, there was no answer. 

“Did you just see this kid beating someone up and decide to take him home with you, without finding out a single other thing about his circumstances?” Giotto guessed, absolutely correctly. 

Alaude crossed his arms and declared, “He is a menace to society unless properly trained.” The boy had been beating up an entire — admittedly small-time — gang when Alaude happened across him. Actually, Alaude had been after that same gang, just to stretch his legs and keep in shape, but watching the boy massacre them had been… So cute. The way he had proudly perched on top of the pile of defeated bodies, the triumphant ruler of all he saw — just adorable. 

Smiling faintly, Alaude patted the boy on the head and ignored the way he almost got bitten for his trouble. 

‘We’re definitely kidnappers now,’ Giotto thought mournfully. 

Because, clearly, Alaude wasn’t going to agree to send the kid back wherever he came from. 

“You’re filing the paperwork for whatever he breaks,” Giotto said instead. “He’s your responsibility. And find out if he has parents. You’re explaining this to them.” 

If he had parents at all. Giotto still wasn’t Alaude himself hadn’t just… spontaneously materialized from, like, a forgotten pile of handcuffs. 

In any case, whatever parents the boy had were probably very happy to pass him off on someone else. 

~.~.~

_ They weren’t all Alaude’s fault. _

Giotto and G were in his office, going over some records that didn’t quite match up, when the first explosion rumbled through the manor. 

G closed his eyes with an expression of long suffering. “I’m gonna kill him,” he swore. Pulling out a cigarette and clenching it between his teeth, he stalked out, just as another explosion followed the first. Quickly making sure all of his paperwork and the ink pot were secure, in case things got a little more explosive, Giotto followed. 

He arrived in the west garden to find several craters, an uprooted tree, and his Storm, Rain, Sun, and Cloud Guardians with two kids each. G was holding Hayato and Ken both by the scruff, already lecturing as he shook them intermittently, whenever the two started glaring at each other. Asari was standing next to Takeshi, both laughing in their usual Rain way, while Tsuna hid behind them. Knuckle was also lecturing, to Ryohei, listening fiercely, and Chikusa, ignoring them both. Alaude stood over two tied up forms — Hibari and Mukuro, who were glaring at each other. 

The bushes nearby rippled a little, the illusion on them wavering as Chrome peeked out shyly. 

‘We need more adults,’ Giotto thought. Daemon, had he been there, would have told him, “We need less brats.” He certainly suggested selling them often enough. 

“So what was it this time?” Primo asked, crossing his arms and looking between the children. 

“Mukuro made Onii-san think that Hibari-san was a bear, so Onii-san tried to box with him. Takeshi tried to join them because he said it looked fun. Hibari-san got mad, and they started fighting. They got close to where Mukuro was hiding, so Ken and Chikusa jumped in. Then they bumped into Gokudera and me, and I fell, so Gokudera threw dynamite at them,” Tsuna said in a rush. He was always the most cooperative. 

“I see,” Giotto said, sighing. He really did. This sort of thing happened every other day, more or less.

“I’m sorry for my nephew,” G gritted out, dropping Hayato to his feet and forcefully pressing his head down in a deep bow. 

“I apologize for my student,” Asari said, bowing with Takeshi. 

“I’m sorry to the limit for my student too,” Knuckle agreed, casually punching Ryohei in the back of the head. Of course, to Ryohei, it was just a love tap. 

“Hmph,” Alaude huffed, releasing Hibari and dragging him off. 

Giotto stared at Mukuro, who stared back for a good while before finally glancing away and shuffling awkwardly. “He should have been able to see through that level of illusion,” he muttered. “I was just helping him train.” 

“You’re replanting that tree and fixing the mess,” Giotto told him. “And if you’re so interested in training, then I suppose I can ask Daemon…” 

“There’s no need for that,” Mukuro said quickly. “Ken, Chikusa, let’s go.” 

With a sigh, Giotto turned to his remaining Guardians and their charges. “The rest of you, go help clean the mansion. I heard the floors can use some polishing. And no dessert for dinner,” he ordered. 

As the kids shuffled away, mostly accepting despite Gokudera’s grumbling, Giotto heard G mutter, “We need less brats, seriously.” 

~.~.~

_...But still. Have some limits, please. _

When Alaude turned up with a baby — an actual infant, not more than a few months old, which the Bovino family had apparently given to him as some kind of barbaric bribe or tribute — Giotto thought that he maybe should have put a stop to this from the start, before it got this bad. 

Then he glanced at Tsuna, standing on his tiptoes to look at the baby in Alaude’s arms, and he couldn’t bring himself to regret a thing. 

“Does he have a name?” Giotto asked instead. “Or is it a she?” 

Given the way Alaude considered the baby, if it had a name, he hadn’t been told. Scrunching up its nose, the baby started crying. “Lambo,” Alaude decided. 

Thinking of his Lightning Guardian, who was also rather prone to tears, Giotto supposed there was a certain resemblance. 

~.~.~


	4. Odd friendship (R27)

******Summary:** AU Reborn hated to admit that he met Tsuna by messing up and getting shot on a simple mission. Not that Tsuna wanted to admit to just deciding to help a strange man he happened to find bleeding in an alley. They definitely made for a strange pair. 

**Notes:** This is really old. Tbh I don't really remember what it's about. 

~.~.~

**Part 1**

Reborn hated being asked about how he and Tsuna met.

And people asked a lot, all the time. They were just such a mismatched pair that no one could contain their curiosity. How had the most feared assassin in the criminal underworld and a completely ordinary, no good school boy ended up together?

Reborn always glared and refused to answer.

It was embarrassing, but they had met because Reborn messed up.

But as embarrassing it was to know he messed up badly enough to get shot by a stray bullet — not even aimed at him — on a simple job and ended up bleeding, near unconscious, in some alley, Reborn wouldn't have fixed that mistake even if he had the chance.

It was worth it. After all, he met Tsuna.

~.~.~

Tsuna wasn't suicidal, or seeking a thrill to break up the boredom of his daily life, or anything like. He just couldn't walk away and leave someone bleeding alone in an alley.

When the bleeding man's hand shot out to clamp onto his wrist, and he hissed, "No hospitals," as Tsuna reached out to try to check his pulse, Tsuna still couldn't just leave him, even if he did recognize that something wasn't quite right there.

"Okay," Tsuna said, a little shakily, but far firmer than he would have ever expected from himself, given the situation. "There's a hotel down the street."

Because Tsuna wasn't crazy enough to take some bleeding, potentially dangerous stranger home with him. Even if his father hadn't been back in years, and his mother was almost always out helping neighbors, or friends, or the neighborhood association, he still didn't want to put them in danger.

Fortunately, the man's dark suit hid the bloodstains well, and though Tsuna staggered under his weight, they made it to the rundown little motel without too much trouble. Tsuna tried to head to the front desk, but the man pulled him toward the rooms, choosing one at the very back and, with what looked like just a twist of his hand, managed to open the previously locked door.

Tsuna helped him to the bed, but the man batted away his hands when he tried to take off his suit jacket.

"Needle and thread," the man ordered, his voice just faintly strained. "Water and towels. And you might want to look away, if you're squeamish."

Fishing out the small sewing kit his mother had stuffed into a corner of his school bag, Tsuna hurried to the bathroom. When he came back, he wished he had been able to follow the man's advice. The glimpse he caught of the sluggishly bleeding wound in the man's side was enough to make his stomach turn and send him running back to the bathroom.

It was for the best. The sight of someone stitching up their own flesh, without a hint of anesthetic, was bound to have been too much for him.

By the time Tsuna dared to venture out again, the man had finished with his — extremely lacking — treatment.

"Is… is that really going to be okay?" Tsuna wondered.

The man snorted. "It'll hold for now. I'll get someone to look at it later," he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he studied Tsuna in a way that was just short of frightening. "Is there any alcohol in this dump?"

Tsuna glanced around, but there was definitely no mini bar. "Sorry," he said.

The man clicked his tongue and leaned back, closing his eyes. To Tsuna, he looked completely relaxed, but even as he dozed, his hand remained close to his concealed gun.

He almost drew it as Tsuna surreptitiously moved closer, but the boy only pulled the blankets up and tucked them around his supposedly sleeping form.

~.~.~

Reborn wasn't concerned, precisely, even when the strange kid left — possibly to get the police, possibly to get whoever hired him to get under Reborn's guard (you never know) or possibly to get the hell away from the clearly shady, criminal and possibly dangerous stranger like anyone with commonsense would have done.

He hadn't really recovered, and there was only so much he could treat on his own, but Reborn was confident in his own abilities. He still had plenty of bullets left, and he really did need a breather before heading off to find an actual doctor.

He was willing to admit to being a bit surprised when the kid returned with a plastic bag from a convenience store. He didn't expect that — but then, who would? No one with common sense, that's for sure.

"Sorry it isn't much," the kid said, pulling out a cheap box lunch, "but I heated it up, so it should still be warm."

Though he didn't care much for prefabricated Japanese fare, Reborn shoveled it down. He could see that the packaging hadn't even been touched, and the sheer tastelessness of the food would have made it hard to hide any poison. "Bland," he declared. "Get something better next time. Are you really that cheap?"

The kid bristled and glared as he continued to nibble on his own food. He muttered something like, "Ungrateful," under his breath, which made Reborn smirk. He was a sadist in even the smallest ways.

"So what should I call you, kid?" Reborn asked.

"I'm Tsuna," the kid said, and the way he said it even sounded like his real name. At least he didn't give his last name, which was starting to look like par for course with him — pick up a stranger, but don't take him home, give him your name, but not all of it. He needed to make up his mind whether he was going to be properly cautious or not.

"I'm Reborn, the greatest hitman in the world," Reborn introduced himself.

There was no point in hiding it. There was only one person that mention of "a man in a suit and a fedora" can possibly bring up.

"H-hitman?" the kid — Tsuna — muttered, staring down at his half-eaten lunch box.

"That's right. That means I'm an assassin," Reborn said baldly, then smirked. "Going to run away now?"

Tsuna looked like he was really considering it.

Unfortunately, by that point, it was too late.

~.~.~

Both Tsuna and Reborn looked up just before a grenade broke the window and landed in the middle of the dingy hotel room. At the time, Reborn was too preoccupied to notice the reaction, and their subsequent actions were quite different — Tsuna screeched and dove behind the bed, Reborn pulled out his gun and leaped out the window.

It was not his most graceful graceful landing, and he thought the tumble and roll might have ripped some of the stitches, but Reborn didn't waste time worrying about it. He could see his target — the idiot who had tried to attack him.

Even as his opponent saw him in turn and tried to flee, already pulling out more grenades, Reborn took aim. He wanted to finish it quickly.

Meanwhile, Tsuna had successfully survived the blast, mostly shielded by the mattress. If he had been smart, he would have gone out the bathroom window — he was still skinny enough to wiggle through it.

But he didn't. He was scared, but his eyes caught sight of the broken window, and he worried. He couldn't just leave someone to die, if he might have been able to help.

Grabbing his bag more out of habit than anything, Tsuna hurried out after Reborn.

~.~.~

**Part 2**

Thing was, Reborn had his pride and a certain sense of… not exactly honor, but he definitely hated owing someone.

And no matter how you looked at it, he owed Tsuna.

Sure, Reborn would have eventually dragged himself out of that alley and found some way to patch up his wound until he could make it to a doctor. And sure, Reborn could have taken that pathetic assassin, and his friends, even the one he hadn't noticed sneaking up on him until Tsuna nailed him in the face with his school bag.

Sure, he hadn't needed it, but Reborn appreciated the help all the same.

It had been… well, not-nice to realize only after the fact that he had completely forgotten about the kid and unintentionally left him in the grenade's blast range, in the motel. He hadn't meant to do that, but Reborn was more tired than he wanted to admit, and he had reacted without thinking.

His first reaction wasn't of a bodyguard. He had never really worried about anyone except himself.

If they stuck together longer, he'd have to watch out for that, Reborn caught himself thinking. He could already tell, just from the way he moved, that Tsuna had no training or experience in combat.

He owed the kid, after all.

"Shouldn't you go to see a doctor now?" Tsuna asked, glancing worriedly down at the bloodstain on Reborn's shirt, which had previously started drying, but was now damp again.

"I'm not going to a doctor," Reborn said haughtily. "The doctor's going to come to me. And I need to get rid of these goldfish poop morons first."

Tsuna looked thoughtful, fingering the strap of his slightly battered bag.

"Are they a foreigner too?" he asked slowly. "I think… I have an idea."

His idea was amateurish and only worked because no one had any reason to associate some random kid with the great Reborn, but it was still an idea and not halfway bad, all things considered.

And to be honest, Reborn was finding it hard to stay conscious by that point. Whatever this kid's deal, he was at least mostly certain that Tsuna wasn't out to lead him into some elaborate trap.

Might as well give it a chance, he decided, leaning back against the wall of a quiet corner in downtown Namimori and closing his eyes.

(It wasn't trust, he assured himself. He just knew he could handle anything the kid tried, really.)

~.~.~

Tsuna's plan was very simple — he bought them tickets on a bus to a famous landmark three hours from Namimori.

The old castle was popular with tourists, so even Reborn wouldn't stand out too much, and there were people constantly making last minute plans and travel arrangements, so even that wouldn't be weird. It would be easy to meet up with this doctor there, and afterwards they could catch another bus in a completely different direction.

While heading back from the ticket counter, he even bought a cheap jacket and baseball cap from a souvenir shop, to cover Reborn's bloody shirt and face. They would look weird in combination with his slacks and expensive dress shoes, but it was better than nothing, Tsuna figured.

For once, the ridiculously high limit credit card his father had given him came in handy. Tsuna tried not to think about how he would explain all this to his parents. There a good chance they would even notice, anyway.

"Reborn," Tsuna called out quietly as he made his way to the place where he had left his… travel companion? acquaintance? This time, he didn't miss the way Reborn's hand twitched toward his gun, but Tsuna tactfully didn't comment. Holding out his purchases, he said, "Come on, the bus leaves in half an hour."

"I hate public transport," Reborn muttered under his breath as they joined the line at the bus stop, in between a family with four children, half of them screaming toddlers, and an old couple from Germany, who were busy taking pictures of absolutely everything.

Reborn pulled down his hat to better shield his face and glared at the bus's undercarriage in search of any sign of tempering.

Pinching the fabric of Reborn's new jacket between his thumb and forefinger, Tsuna steered him onto the bus and into a seat. For a moment, Reborn tried to protest against taking the window seat, until he realized Tsuna had picked the emergency exit row.

The glance he spared Tsuna made the kid fidget uncertainly, filled with not surprise but something strangely close to approval.

~.~.~

Reborn dozed fitfully, as the bus rolled along. Waking up occasionally, he caught glimpses of Tsuna looking out the window on Reborn's other side, at the scenery scrolling by. Catching Reborn's gaze, he smiled.

"Still another hour," he said quietly.

The seats were narrow, and Reborn could feel Tsuna's warmth against his side. It felt… pleasant, compared to the alternating numbness and ache of his wound.

Following Tsuna's gaze, he glanced out at the landscape beyond the window. They had long since left the city, now driving through the countryside. Reborn had never spent much time traveling across Japan, and the tiled rice patties, the thin dirt roads between them, the long lines of telephone poles and the mountains in the distance all looked like part of some other world — not his world, certainly.

This place, this bus, the people in it were all not part of his world. When had he ever taken a trip just for pleasure? When was the last time he had just taken the time to enjoy the sights?

The kid at his side was also not part of his world.

"Why did you help me?" Reborn said without thinking. "What do you want? Money? A favor — an assassination? Or are you just looking for some excitement?"

But none of that seemed even vaguely plausible. Reborn could already tell Tsuna's family was at least well off, and he didn't seem to care about money. He hadn't even known Reborn was a hitman until Reborn told him. And for all that he held it together well, Tsuna had been shaking in fear by the time Reborn had finished with his would-be assailants.

Tsuna only blinked at him in surprise and incomprehension. "I couldn't just leave you," Tsuna said, as if it was something simple and obvious.

Not from his world, without a doubt.

"Because it's the right thing to do? …You do get that I'm a hitman, right? I kill people," Reborn told him, his quiet tone easily drowned out by the noise of the other passengers. He smirked mirthlessly. "If I died, it would probably save the lives of a whole lot of people. In simple numbers… you'd be doing more good by leaving me to die."

…Not that he would have died. At least, not so easily.

Tsuna's mouth twisted a little as he stared at Reborn. "…Sorry," he said, "but I'm not any good at math. I can't count like that. And I don't think lives are something you can just add or subtract. You never know, maybe one day, you'll save lots of people, or even just one, who'll save lots of others…"

He shrugged, looking away with a faint blush.

Realizing he had been the one who ended up staring uncomprehendingly, Reborn snorted and settled back in his seat, his hat once more pulled down to cover his face.

"'Not good' is putting it nicely," he said instead. "15 percent, really? That's more like abysmally bad."

Tsuna bristled, turning an angry, embarrassed red. "You saw that?" he hissed, remembering the math test he had stuffed into the very bottom of his school bag. "When did you…?"

Smirking, Reborn didn't reply. As he listened to Tsuna's exasperated huffing, the chatter of the happy tourists, and the hum of the bus beneath them, he found himself drifting back to sleep.

Not his world, but… not bad either. A vacation, to a mystic land.

~.~.~

**Part 3**

The area around the ancient castle — reconstructed from its original Warring States Period foundation — was teeming with visitors, tourists both from across Japan and from abroad.

Reborn scowled at them, annoyed by the noise and press of people, but the crowds helped him and Tsuna blend in where they would have otherwise stood out quite a bit. As Reborn claimed an out of the way table and bench for them, Tsuna brought over a couple of drinks from a nearby vending machine.

"Are you supposed to meet this doctor here?" Tsuna asked, holding out the can of ice coffee he had gotten Reborn. "Or should we get a hotel? There's a nice ryokan down the street over there." At least, that's what he had read in the visitors' information brochure.

"Look for a skirt-chasing pervert," Reborn instructed him, taking an experimental sip. It wasn't bad, especially in the summer.

"That's… not very specific," Tsuna pointed out, looking around at the throngs of people passing by them. Quite a few appeared to be perverts, watching the short skirts with avid interest.

"I think you'll know," Reborn muttered. "We're talking about a special class of pervert here."

He didn't seem inclined to explain any further, so Tsuna shrugged and let him be. His own juice can was pleasantly cool in his hands, and watching the passing crowds was interesting in its own way.

Who were they? Why did they decide to come to see this castle? Where were they from? How were they connected to each other?

For some, the answers were obvious. There — a group of high school students, still in their uniforms, notebooks and camera phones in hand as they took notes for some project. There — a young couple on a date, the man pointing at one of the castle towers enthusiastically.

For others, Tsuna could only wonder.

"Hey, Reborn," he said slowly, "those people over there — aren't they a bit… suspicious?"

He was pointing at a trio of clearly foreign men, who were keeping close together and muttering to each other. The way they seemed to maintain a distance from the other visitors and the darting glances they threw around them really did make them seem suspicious.

Reborn glanced at them for a moment before snorting. "They're fanboys," he said baldly. "They really like Japanese history or maybe castles. They're probably embarrassed about their hobbies, but see that one on the left — he's got tickets to the battle reenactment at sunset. And see, they bought the expensive annotated full history of the castle, three copies."

"Huh," Tsuna drew out, watching the men closely. Now he could see the way the men's darting glances would linger on the reconstructed buildings and on some of the merchandise in the gift shops, especially the antique armor set in one window display, and the way the backs of their necks were flushing in embarrassment. He grinned and pointed to an old woman in a kimono, walking arm in arm with a young man in an expensive suit. "Then what about them?"

"His grandmother," Reborn replied, growing a little amused at Tsuna's obvious excitement. This kind of game was easy for him — reading people was a vital skill for a hitman. "His parents must have died young, and his grandmother raised him. They're well off, and it seems he had to take over the family business. He wants to have a modern image — look at the cut on that suit — but he still has the traditional values she drilled into him."

Tsuna had fun finding more and more mismatched groups to ask Reborn about, and after a while he started offering his own guesses. Judging by the way Reborn snickered more and more, they were completely off-base. Giving up, Tsuna instead stopped even trying to be realistic.

Those four — eloping together? That girl — an heiress on the run? That foreign man in thick glasses — a scientist looking for a new kind of earthworm?

Even Reborn got into it, making up ridiculous explanations for the things he easily noticed.

However, they had to admit, no pair or group was quite an mismatched as theirs. As Tsuna tried to imagine what people were thinking of them, he couldn't help laughing out loud.

"…Oh," Tsuna said suddenly. "I think I see him."

He couldn't explain why, but something about the way the man moved caught Tsuna's attention. In some way, it reminded him of Reborn — too controlled, too calculated. Not like everyone else.

And, judging by the way he was shamelessly flirting with a young woman while trying to look down her shirt, he was indeed a skirt-chasing pervert.

Reborn glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "You got it in one," he commented. He didn't bother calling out. Instead, he focused his gaze on the doctor's back for a moment.

After all, the doctor was also an hitman, and no hitman would be able to ignore the instinctive feeling of danger Reborn's regard generated.

Tsuna watched with interest as the skirt-chasing pervert stiffened almost imperceptibly and quickly wrapped up his flirting, to the young woman's clear relief. As she hurried away, the man turned to look unerringly where Tsuna and Reborn were sitting.

With a smirk, Reborn gestured in greeting.

"Couldn't you have waited, Reborn?" the doctor complained as he approached the pair. "I think I almost had her number."

"In your dreams, Shamal," Reborn snorted.

"You know, you're the one that needs me here," Shamal said, sighing and running a hand through his messy hair. "I came all the way out here to meet you. You could be a little more appreciative. ….Or not," he added quickly as Reborn's eyes narrowed. "Well, let's see how you got yourself messed up this time…"

"I didn't get messed up," Reborn protested, reaching up to unzip his jacket. "I already dealt with it. I just want some antibiotics, so it doesn't get infected."

"Yes, I can imagine how you 'dealt with it,'" Shamal muttered. "I still remember that time in Budapest."

Reborn rolled his eyes, about to snap something back, when Tsuna spoke up.

"Um, are you going to treat him in the middle of street like this?" he asked. "Maybe we really should get a room."

Both the hitmen turned to look at him a little blankly.

"I don't treat men," Shamal said. He looked Tsuna up and down, and added, "And I've got no interest in getting a room with one. I didn't realize you had interests like that, Reborn."

"I don't," Reborn growled, pulling his hat down in exasperation. "I'm practically twice his age, you know."

Going by the way Shamal couldn't quite stop himself from eyeing a passing group of high school girls with interest, he wasn't much bothered by such societal constraints.

"Let's, let's just go to the ryokan," Tsuna said, covering his face with one hand and pretending he hadn't heard the last four sentences. When Shamal looked ready to protest, he added, "They have an open air communal bath."

"What are we waiting for?" Shamal brightened immediately.

Catching Reborn's eyes and seeing his smirk, Tsuna couldn't help but grin back, even through his embarrassment.

But he also couldn't help but feel a sinking in the pit of his stomach. It seemed like… their trip was almost at an end.

~.~.~

**Part 4**

"Okay, he'll live," Shamal announced, letting Tsuna know it was okay to come out from the bathroom, where he had hidden the moment Reborn took off his shirt.

"That was obvious from the start," Reborn grumbled, slipping his clothes back on. "As if I'd get done in by something like that."

"Probably true," Shamal conceded, with some annoyance. "Your immune system and recovery rate are practically inhuman. But now you won't have to worry about fighting off an infection — and I'm sure you remember what a wonderful experience that is."

Reborn did remember. He had survived, of course, but it one of the most unpleasant times of his life.

"Now, if you'll excuse me…" Shamal grinned lecherously. Now that it was evening and the inn was filling up with guests, the baths would be in full use. "Wait for me, sweet honeys!"

Creeping out of the bathroom, Tsuna settled on the other bed. "Are you really going to be okay?" he asked, looking at Reborn with worry.

"Shamal's an annoying pervert, but he's not actually a charlatan," Reborn said. With a sigh, he let himself fall back onto his bed and relaxed a little. "He's trustworthy in his own way." Mostly because he knew what sort of vengeance Reborn would bring down on him otherwise.

Tsuna nodded slowly. "What do you want for dinner?" he asked. "I'll get us something. …You're staying the night, right?"

"Might as well. You paid for the room, didn't you?" Reborn said absently. "Anything's fine. I don't really care."

But instead of heading out, Tsuna puttered around the room, as if unwilling to go just yet. Sighing a little, Reborn watched him fidget and waited. "…Tomorrow," Tsuna said finally, "do you want to go see the castle? Before you leave, I mean."

Reborn considered his request. He had finished his job, despite his little mistake, and he was reasonably sure he had lost the small fry that had tried to take advantage of his injury — not that it helped them at all, the gap in their power remaining as well as the sea.

So there was no harm in hanging around for a day. He had nothing else lined up at the moment, and after a good night's sleep, he could easily handle the crowds and a little walking.

Besides, he kind of… wanted to. It would be a nice reward for the kid too, before Reborn sent him off back home.

"Sure," Reborn said, rolling over. "Now scram. I changed my mind — I want sushi."

Hiding his smile behind a look of exasperation, Tsuna muttered, "Yeah, yeah. You prima donna…"

His intuition really was impressive, Reborn thought absently.

~.~.~

"—when this castle became a favored vacation home for the fifth Tokugawa shogun, Tsunayoshi," the tour guide explained, as the group made their way through the reconstructed passages of the castle. "Tsunayoshi is said to have chosen this particular castle due to its—"

Reborn stared down at Tsuna in amusement and a certain degree of be-musement, as Tsuna continued to twitch every time the Tokugawa shogun was mentioned.

"What is with you?" he asked, as Tsuna twitched again.

"I can't help it!" Tsuna hissed in reply. "She keeps saying that name!"

It took Reborn a moment to make the connection, at which point he had to struggle to hide his snickering. "I see," he managed, his shoulders shaking. "So Tsuna is short for… haha, ow, ow…"

No one had dared to just pinch his arm like that in more years than Reborn cared to remember, but Tsuna was completely unafraid of the wrath of the world's greatest hitman.

"Like you're any better, 'Reborn,'" Tsuna shot back. "You even picked it out yourself, didn't you? What, were you thirteen and feeling edgy?"

Reborn shrugged, still smirking. "It's symbolic," he said, rather haughtily.

The reprimanding, offended look he received wasn't nearly enough to stop Reborn from buying Tsuna a stuffed dog in a shogun's outfit, with Tokugawa Tsunayoshi's name stitched onto it — referencing the fifth shogun's nickname "the dog shogun." The face Tsuna made was absolutely hilarious.

"I hate dogs," he grumbled.

"Oh? Well, I could take it back, if you don't want it…" Reborn teased.

Tsuna clutched the small toy tightly, twisting away as if to shield it from Reborn's clutches. "No! I want it, I want it!" he said quickly.

Reborn laughed. Tsuna was just too easy to rile up.

"Come on," he said, ruffling Tsuna's hair and pulling him along. "I'll walk you to your bus. It's almost time for boarding."

Neither of them acknowledged the feeling of disappointment that came with the imminent end of their trip. It had been a fun adventure, in different ways beyond the scope of their everyday lives. But like any vacation, it had to end.

As they arrived at the bus stop, Tsuna hesitated to get on. Scuffing his shoe against the ground, he said awkwardly, "Thanks, for spending the day with me and, just, for everything. Thank you, Reborn."

"I'm the one who should be saying that," Reborn sighed. "You really don't have any common sense at all, do you?"

Tsuna's lips quirked up in a slightly strained smile. "You would have been fine anyway, right?" he echoed back Reborn's continued insistence. "But I had fun. I guess it was… really nice…"

Looking away pointedly, he toyed with the stuffed dog for a moment.

He wasn't the only one feeling awkward, though Reborn had believed himself to be above such things. Then again, he had thought himself above getting shot like an amateur, so maybe Japan just made him off his game.

"You really are a weird kid," he said, reaching out and ruffling Tsuna's hair again. "Hand," Reborn added, holding out his own, palm up. When Tsuna did as ordered, he moved their clasped hands up and down. "Shake," Reborn said, smirking. "Good boy."

"I'm not a dog!" Tsuna protested, finally understanding what Reborn was doing — making him mime a common animal trick. But when he tried to pull his hand away, Reborn kept firm hold on it.

"Okay, okay," the hitman said. "But I really do have something for you." Pulling out a pen, he turned over Tsuna's hand and began to write on his palm. "This is my private number," he explained. "If you're in trouble, call me. I'll take care of it, without fail. Consider yourself lucky. The world's greatest hitman is offering you a favor."

Tsuna stared down at the sharp writing on his hand. His vision was getting a little blurry, and Tsuna realized that he was getting teary-eyed. How embarrassing, he thought, trying to sniff back his tears.

"…Yeah," he said thickly, quickly rubbing his eyes dry. "I'll hold you to it."

~.~.~

**Epilogue**

Tsuna's mother hadn't noticed that he never came home for the night or that he missed school the next day. She had stayed over at a friend's house after their baking spree ran late, and it was hardly the first time Tsuna skipped school.

He hadn't expected differently anyway.

But to Tsuna's surprise, his father called soon after, having noticed the irregular credit card charges. Or maybe the credit card company had notified him, thinking the card had been stolen.

"It's good that you're finally getting out a bit! Did you have fun with your friends?" Iemitsu asked. He didn't sound particularly reprimanding, but he probably didn't even know if Tsuna's school was on break or not.

"Yeah," Tsuna said candidly. "I… well, I met this person. Some things happened, and I just… got swept along, you know?"

He sighed, not even sure why he was telling his father all this. Maybe he just wanted to share it with someone, some proof that it really had happened.

"O-oh?" Iemitsu said, sounding strangely choked. "You were just… swept away, huh? So what was this… person like?"

"Um, a foreigner," Tsuna said, surprised by the question. "Just, really different from anyone I've ever met. Strong and smart. Older than me. Really tall, and with a great sense of style." He laughed, thinking of Reborn's completely ruined suit. "I just wanted to show them around a bit, since we didn't have much time together…"

There was a strangled sound coming over the phone.

"…Foreign… older… tall… sexy outfit," Iemitsu was muttering to himself, completely twisting around Tsuna's words. "One room… night together…"

"Um, Dad?" Tsuna called out tentatively, holding the phone away from his ear for a moment to look at it dubiously.

It was for the best that he had, since Iemitsu chose that moment to let out a heartbroken wail.

"My little boy's all grown up! A man!" Iemitsu sobbed. "I missed it!"

"What…?"

"No! I can't let it all slip away!" Iemitsu continued, heedless of Tsuna's complete befuddlement. "I missed too much, but we'll catch up! That's right! I have plenty of sick days saved up!" Months of them, in fact.

Sighing, Tsuna hung up. Hopefully, the man would go back to making sense the next time he called. What had that all been about?

He glanced at the phone and down at his palm thoughtfully, though the numbers had long since washed away. But in the end, he shook his head. It was for emergencies. After all, he couldn't use his favor just to talk… right?

~.~.~

"Ah, Reborn. Thank you for coming," the old man said slowly.

His words and breath came only laboriously. It was hard to believe his condition had deteriorated this much, this fast. The last time Reborn had seen the Cavallone boss, he had still been able to at least put on a front of strength, but now the full extent of his illness was clear.

He didn't have much time left, but his gaze was still sharp and shrewd, every bit the great leader he had once been.

"For the sake of the Cavallone Famiglia, I have an important assignment for you," Don Cavallone continued, pausing to cough into his handkerchief. "An extended mission. I am willing to offer any payment necessary. For a year, while Dino takes the reins and the family adjusts… Protect my son."

This was not what Reborn expected when he received the summons. This was completely outside of his job description.

The last thing he had tried to keep alive had been a chameleon and that… hadn't worked out, to put it mildly.

"You can't be serious. I'm a hitman, not a bodyguard," Reborn said, finally able to formulate some answer to such an absurd idea. "Even if it's a request from you, it's not the kind of service I offer."

The old boss signed, breaking into a coughing fit halfway through. He looked tired, but more than that he looked worried. "Reborn… Please," the old man repeated. "You're the only who could do it. Without your help, Dino will… Dino will surely…"

He began to cough again, his entire body trembling. Worry made Reborn bite back further protests, especially when the coughing fit continued. Servants and the physician, waiting just outside the bedroom, rushed in and fussed around their ill master.

Drawing back from the commotion around the bed, Reborn slipped out into the hallway. He leaned back against the wall and let out out a heavy breath. Even for him, turning down what might very well become a man's last request — much less from someone who had been a good ally in the past — was difficult.

He glanced up as a boy dashed around the corner, tripping on a fold in the carpet but stubbornly picking himself up, and hurried up to the bedroom doors.

"Father? What happened? Is he alright?" he demanded, hesitating at the threshold.

So this was Don Cavallone's son, Dino. He looked even more underwhelming than Reborn had heard. For a kid like this to take over a major famiglia like Cavallone and get it running properly again would definitely take more than just a year. Reborn didn't even want to imagine the number of assassination attempt that would come in just the first week after Dino's ascension as the new Cavallone boss.

No wonder Don Cavallone was so desperate. This kid was practically a dead man walking. It would take more than just the Cavallone family retainers to keep him alive.

It was a shame. He really was just a kid, only Tsuna's age…

'Maybe someday, you'll save lots of people, or even just one…'

Reborn shook his head sharply. "Stupid," he muttered. "As if I'd ever save anyone."

'Protect my son. You're the only who could do it.'

It was beyond stupid. But…

Sighing in exasperation, Reborn stalked over to where Dino was still hovering in the bedroom doorway. As the teenager glanced up at him, Reborn flicked on the forehead, making Dino cringe and whimper in pain.

"Fine," Reborn sighed. "I'll do it. I'll make sure this brat doesn't die, no matter what."

~.~.~

 


	5. Valentines exchange 2018 (K27)

**Summary:** Oneshot. It started with a smile. Tsuna/Kyoko fluff. 

**Notes:** For @liquidletti, per the 2018 Valentine’s exchange on tumblr.  


~.~.~

Sasagawa Kyoko was a nice girl. Everyone said so — because Kyoko was nice to everyone. It was something she did naturally, without thinking. Making people happy made her happy, after all. 

So she didn’t think anything of it when she helped up a boy who had tripped in front of their school. It had looked like it hurt when his face planted into the sidewalk, and Kyoko sighed in quiet disapproval at the other students who walked by giggling. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, crouching next to him. She watched worriedly as the boy picked himself up onto his hands and knees, his head hanging low. He sniffled, reaching up to wipe something from his nose with the back of his hand — she couldn’t see if it was blood or snot from tears of pain and humiliation, but it didn’t matter. “Here,” she held out her handkerchief.  

The boy’s shoulders hitched as he stared at her hand in surprise. Kyoko waited patiently as he hesitated to reach out and accept it, starting and stopping. But finally, his slightly scratched up fingers rested on the handkerchief. Kyoko’s smile widened. 

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, as he slowly climbed to his feet. Although he accepted the handkerchief, he didn’t use it to wipe his nose or his hand, only holding it tightly. “It doesn’t look like your pants got ripped, so that’s good. Do your hands hurt?” 

“Um... no, I’m okay,” the boy said quietly. “Th-thanks...” 

Standing, they were about the same height, but with the way he stooped, shoulders hunched defensively, he had to look up at Kyoko through his bangs. 

“Kyoko,” she introduced herself, “I’m Sasagawa Kyoko. Nice to meet you!” 

“Ah... I’m Da... Tsuna,” the boy said. “Sawada Tsunayoshi.” 

And, encouraged by her own bright, beaming expression, Tsuna smiled tentatively. 

‘Ah,’ Kyoko thought. ‘Cute...’ 

It really was. Tsuna’s smile was so cute, like a flower opening up toward the sun, and Kyoko suddenly knew she really wanted to see it again. 

~.~.~

Tsuna was in her class, Kyoko had realized only after they walked to the classroom together. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her momentary confusion when he followed her in — it wouldn’t be fair to Tsuna to think he was that forgettable. She’d never forget him again, she decided. 

Especially since... Her lips thinned in displeasure at the smattering of sneers that greeted ‘Dame-Tsuna.’ 

No one greeted him with a smile. 

And that wasn’t right at all. 

“Tsuna-kun,” Kyoko said, turning to him instead of going to her seat, “Let’s have lunch together.” 

A sharp, ominous hush fell over the classroom behind her. Someone dropped something, and she was pretty sure she could hear Hana palming her face. But Kyoko kept her eyes on Tsuna and smiled. “L, lunch? With me...?” he repeated, blinking in shock as Kyoko nodded. 

His gaze darted everywhere except her, and his hands fluttered uselessly, but it wasn’t a no yet. “Will you?” she prompted. 

“Y-y-yes!” Tsuna stammered. “I will!” He beamed, and it was as cute as the one before. 

The bell rang, and Kyoko headed back to her desk with a last smile and a wave. Hana mouthed a question as their eyes met, but Kyoko just shrugged helplessly. She couldn’t explain it at all, but somehow this was what she wanted to do. 

~.~.~

Hana sulked all through lunch. She thought all boys their age were just monkeys, and the way Tsuna fumbled nearly every piece of food didn’t do anything to change her opinion. His ears grew redder and redder, and his head sank lower, as the students sitting nearby jeered continually. 

Looking at the way Kyoko’s lips thinned, her smile becoming increasingly brittle, Hana sighed and turned to fix the nearest group with her nastiest glare. “Hey!” she barked at them with the kind of sharp, unhesitating forcefulness Kyoko admired most about her. “Keep it down or get lost!” 

“Thanks, Hana-chan,” Kyoko murmured, as her friend turned back. Hana snorted, chewing sullenly at the last of her egg sandwich. 

“You’re buying me cake after class,” she said. 

And unexpectedly— “I, I’ll do it!” Tsuna burst out. Ducking his head, he said, “It’s my fault, so I’ll pay.” 

“No way,” Hana declared flatly. “I’m not doing anything for you. Kyoko decided to drag you along, so it’s on her. It’s rude to ignore her decision, you know. Besides, I don’t want to go to the cake shop with you. I’m going with Kyoko.” 

Kyoko laughed. “Okay, Hana-chan. The one by the station, right?” She tried to catch Tsuna’s gaze, but he had ducked his head again, drooping sadly, so in the end, Kyoko reached out and placed her hand over one of his. “I’ll get you something too, we can have it after lunch tomorrow.” 

The chopsticks slipped from his hand. “...Tomorrow?” he repeated in stunned tone. 

~.~.~ 

‘Tomorrow’ became ‘every day.’ 

Despite her huffing and grumbling, Hana eventually accepted that their new lunchmate was not a passing whim or just politeness on Kyoko’s part. Her manner remained sharp, but she went as far as adding another share of cookies or snacks when she brought extras for lunch. “Shut up,” she mumbled, flushing a little at Kyoko’s bright, proud smile then. 

Tsuna himself... was taking longer to adjust. He still looked so shocked and disbelieving every day when Kyoko said hello to him and when she invited him to eat lunch with them and when she said goodbye at the end of classes. 

It wasn’t like Kyoko couldn’t guess why. Their classmates, she was thinking more and more, where not very nice people. 

Already on the second day, the whispering clusters of students eyeing them unhappily had pushed forward a representative, who approached Kyoko with a nervous expression. “Sasagawa, you shouldn’t waste your time on Dame-Tsuna,” he’d said. 

Kyoko didn’t know exactly what face she made then. She had thought she was smiling politely, but the other student had flinched, breaking out in cold sweat. “Thank you for your concern,” she said in an even tone. “But I don’t agree.” 

Turning away after that might not have been very nice either, but Kyoko rebelliously felt she might not care too much just then. 

Maybe she really had been a strange face because she could feel her expression relaxing as she faced Tsuna again. “So how about it, Tsuna-kun? Do you want to study for the quiz together?” 

~.~.~ 

No one asked her about Tsuna again. And since no one brought it up to Kyoko again, she thought that was the end of it. 

But it turned out, their classmates were even more... impolite than she had realized. 

“...just causing trouble for, Sasagawa.” 

“That’s right. If Sasagawa-chan keeps wasting her time on you, she’ll end up no good too! It wouldn’t right for our class to lose our idol just because of you.” 

“So stay away from Sasagawa!” 

Standing around the corner from where a group of students had cornered Tsuna, Kyoko listened with a feeling she had trouble putting into words. She thought she might have been making a weird expression again — her face felt stiff. Her fingers were digging into the handle of her book bag as it hung by her side. 

There was a dull thud as one of the other boys hit the wall next to Tsuna’s head, making him jump. “Got it, Dame-Tsuna?” he demanded. 

Tsuna’s hands were clenched into trembling fists, but there was no threat of angry retaliation in his stance. Tsuna wasn’t that kind of person to begin with. “...” His voice was an inaudible whisper. 

“Huh? What was that?!” the bully demanded — because he was a bully, Kyoko thought, her lips thinning. Well, she knew what to do with bullies. Her brother had set a good example often enough. Squaring her shoulders, she was about to take a step forward—

“...no.” 

It had been so quiet that Kyoko almost thought she had misheard. Tsuna had never rejected any request, especially not such a forceful order. She would have called it part of his accommodating nature, but Hana tended to describe it less charitably as ‘having no spine.’ 

But this time, Tsuna had refused. He didn’t lift his head, but he didn’t waver in his decision. 

“I won’t,” he said, just as quietly. “Not if Kyoko-chan doesn’t ask me herself. And she always...” 

Kyoko had always been clear. But maybe she needed to be even clearer, for some people who just didn’t understand when you were nice. 

“That’s right,” she said, stepping out from around the corner. The boys in front of her all jumped and froze, staring at her with wide, stunned eyes. “I don’t want that. I want to be friends with Tsuna-kun. And if anyone causes trouble for my friends... I’ll be really angry, okay?” 

Even though she was smiling, their classmates swallowed heavily and took a step back. 

“Okay?” Kyoko prompted. 

Flinching, they nodded frantically. 

“That’s good. Well, have a nice day,” she concluded. 

The moment she turned away, they scurried away, but Kyoko didn’t really care about that. Tsuna was still staring at her in shock, but he at least didn’t look scared. As her expression eased into a more honest smile, he blushed and ducked his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Are you okay? Did they do anything?” she asked. If they had... she was getting Ryohei. She didn’t approve of violence, but he could yell a lot louder than her. 

Tsuna quickly shook his head. “I’m fine. Um... sorry you had to see that.” He hesitated, shifting foot to foot. “D-do you really think we can be friends?” he blurted out, finally meeting her gaze. 

“Aren’t we?” Kyoko asked, tilting her head. “I thought we’re already friends.” 

“Oh,” Tsuna murmured. 

And this time, it was Kyoko who blushed. She could feel the slightly stinging heat spreading across her cheeks as she stared at Tsuna — at the smile that spread across his face. It was just so... ‘Cute,’ she thought. ‘He’s so cute.’ 

...She didn’t think that about Hana. Maybe.. this wasn’t a friend kind of feeling. That explained the droll look Hana had given her when Kyoko had told her, ‘I want to be friends with him.’ 

Well, that was something to think about later. For now, friends was good too. 

Smiling back, she reached out and took his hand. 


	6. Exchange 2016 (2700)

**Notes:** Written for the 2016 KHR exchange. It's Tsuna/Enma, based on this image: <https://betsunichan.tumblr.com/post/137130565160/>

 

—————

 

“If you marry me, you’ll have to become a member of the Simon famiglia. So you won’t be part of Vongola anymore, and it won’t be possible for you to become Vongola Decimo. How does that sound?” 

 

Enma brought it up rather casually, but the faint blush on his face gave him away. Tsuna glanced over at him in amusement. To think that his shy, wimpy friend would suggest something like that... 

 

“I don’t think so... Besides, the Vongola famiglia is much more powerful than Simon. So if we get married, you’re the one who’ll be the wife.” 

 

Tsuna delivered his rebuttal with airy carelessness, in the kind of tone he could have never managed if he had been talking to Kyoko, or Haru, or even Yamamoto, or anyone else, really. With Enma, Tsuna never felt like he had to worry or feel embarrassed. So even something like a sudden proposal of marriage just made Tsuna grin and tease back.

 

Teasing someone else, rather than being on the receiving end, was fun. Enma puffed up in a very satisfying way, shooting Tsuna a dirty look. 

 

“I think you're underestimating Simon,” he grumbled. “You might have beaten us back then, but we've gotten a lot stronger.”

 

And that was just like the mafia. Any conversation could and would turn straight into a battle, be it high-stakes trade negotiations or an innocuous comment about the tea. At least Enma was nice enough not to immediately challenge Tsuna to a duel and then attack him without waiting for a response. 

 

“So you don't want to be my bride, Enma-kun?” Tsuna asked. “I'm hurt.” 

 

The derail was successful.

 

“W-wha... That's not it!” Enma protested immediately. “I'm not against it! Well, I mean, if you asked me, I'd definitely think about it. If it was Tsuna-kun, then... I'd... it wouldn't be terrible, so...” He trailed off, blushing and stammering.

 

'Cute,’ Tsuna thought. 

 

“Cute,” the ghost of Cozarto Simon declared, appearing out of nowhere to beam at his descendant. 

 

“What a splendid idea,” the ghost of Giotto, Vongola Primo, chimed in. “Uniting our two families! It's wonderful! I wholeheartedly approve!”

 

“Proposing without even consulting me, your Guardians, or Nono? You've gotten gutsy, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn added, appearing just as suddenly without even the excuse of being a ghost.

 

The derail was successful... But at what cost?

 

Enma went worryingly still where he was sitting, but Tsuna didn't jump or scream, long since used to unexpected unwelcome visitors, corporeal or otherwise. “Wait, why is Simon Primo here?” he asked instead.

 

“He's with me,” Giotto explained brightly — explaining nothing at all. 

 

“Don't get the wrong idea,” Cozarto insisted. “Enma’s the one who proposed first!” 

 

“Well, it's the modern age now, a bride can propose too!” Giotto laughed.

 

“And I'm saying you're presuming too much. Why should Enma be the bride?” 

 

“I think he'd look cuter in the wedding dress,” Giotto said frankly. 

 

“Your descendant is plenty cute too!” 

 

“But yours is even cuter.” 

 

“No way—”

 

As a teenage male, Tsuna felt absolutely nothing approaching happy at being called cute. Not even by a doting great-great-great-great-grandfather. 

 

“I already said...” Enma mumbled under his breath, “I don't mind being a bride... if it's with Tsuna-kun...” 

 

It would have been nice if he minded a bit more. 

 

Tsuna slowly looked between the two ghosts, who were still arguing about who would wear the dress at Tsuna's increasingly less hypothetical wedding, then at Enma, who was blushing, fidgeting and not minding, and finally at Reborn. 

 

Given the pattern of his life, Tsuna knew it wouldn't end there. Before long, his Guardians would burst in for some reason or other, hear about this newest development, take it as fact and begin crying or congratulating. Then, Tsuna's mother would hear of it, and start planning. Then, Tsuna's loud, idiot father. Then, Nono. Then, Byakuran, probably. And so on.

 

Within the next six hours, everyone would know that Tsuna was going to marry Enma. Not a single person would ask his opinion or listen to him when he tried to explain that they had just been joking, no one ever proposed, there was no wedding. 

 

So Tsuna could spend his time futilely trying to get people to pay attention to the truth and to him. 

 

Or he could just let it go. 

 

...Compared to becoming a mafia boss, being forced into battle with professional assassins, being sent to the future, etc, etc, was being married to Enma really that big a deal?

 

Realizing he had been staring blankly at Reborn, who was dressed as a priest for some reason, Tsuna sighed.

 

“Is gay marriage even legal in Japan? Or Italy?” he asked with a wistful hopefulness. 

 

“It hardly matters,” Reborn told him. “Changing the marriage laws is well within Vongola’s power.” 

 

“Yeah, I figured,” Tsuna said.

 

In the background, Giotto and Cozarto were still arguing, now apparently about which of them was more attractive. They sounded like Nana and Iemitsu when they did their lovey-dovey “I love you” “I love you more” “no, I love you even more” routine. Frankly, it sounded like they were the ones who should have married for the good of their families, or whatever. 

 

Enma was still fidgeting and blushing.

 

Sighing again, Tsuna picked up his pen and turned back to his desk. 

 

Either this would blow over, as so many runaway ideas did, or Tsuna would have a cute bride. There were definitely worse fates.

 

~.~.~


	7. Marriage (X27)

**Prompt:** Xanxus and Tsuna better get hitched and confirm that the Vongola stands as one.

———

“Let’s get married.” 

Slowly lowering the whiskey bottle from his lips, Xanxus turned to stare at Tsuna. He didn’t say anything, just stared flatly until Tsuna turned to look back and, seeing his expression, huffed in annoyance. 

“I’m serious,” Tsuna said. “Let’s get married. We won’t have to put up with pushy marriage-alliance offers, everyone will know that Vongola’s mended our internal problems...” ‘I can dump half the work on you,’ he didn’t add verbally. “It makes sense.”

Xanxus snorted and took a long drink. “You’re drunk,” he told Tsuna hypocritically. “That’s what you get for having the body weight of a squirrel. Go to sleep, and I’ll pretend you didn’t say something real damn stupid just now.” 

“I’m pretty drunk,” Tsuna acknowledged, “but I’ve been thinking about it for a while. We should do it. I mean it.” 

They locked gazes for a moment, then Xanxus suddenly smirked. “What’s the real reason?” he asked. 

“The look on Reborn’s face,” Tsuna mused, closing his eyes and grinning just imagining it. “The look on my father’s face. It’d be amazing — getting them off guard for once.” 

Xanxus took another long drink. “Yeah, it would be a thing,” he admitted. 

~.~.~

The announcement shocked Nono, Iemitsu and even Reborn into silence for a solid ten seconds. At that point, Reborn recovered and pinned Tsuna with a sharp glare. He knew that Tsuna was watching and enjoying his reaction. It was annoying, but also a little cute. His student was finally growing up into a proper sadist. 

Nono took almost a minute longer to regain his composure. Finally, he shook his head as if to clear it and slowly said, “Would you mind... repeating that? My hearing isn’t what it used to be...” It came out almost like a feeble plea. 

“Xanxus and I are going to get married,” Tsuna repeated dutifully. 

“We’re getting hitched, get it?” Xanxus said more roughly. “For the good of Vongola and all that.” 

Nono nodded, somewhat jerkily. “I... see. Congratulations,” he said. He still had a stunned, shellshocked look, and he completely missed when he reached for his teacup. Xanxus couldn’t quite bite back a snigger. 

“No.” The sharp refusal came from Iemitsu, who had been staring at Tsuna. His head turned toward Xanxus now, in a rather creepy way. “No,” Iemitsu repeated, glaring at Xanxus. His expression finally changed, contorting in a disbelieving glower. Xanxus glared back, unimpressed. 

“It’s not up to you,” Tsuna said flatly. “I’m not asking for your permission.” He smiled and added, to Nono, “But I’d be glad to have your blessing, to take your son’s hand.” 

Xanxus’s eyebrow twitched, and he suddenly understood how Reborn felt. 

Smiling back pleasantly, Nono said, “Oh, of course. I’m happy for both of you.” Then, he tried to take a sip from the creamer cup. It was apparent that the old man was going completely on autopilot still. 

“No! Absolutely not!” Iemitsu insisted. “I won’t let this barbarian take our Tsu-kun! You’ll have to go through me first!” 

Scowling — regardless of his actual desire to marry Tsuna, being told that he couldn’t made him want to do it out of spite — Xanxus reached for his guns. However, Tsuna beat him to it. 

“OK,” Tsuna agreed. Without even a hint of hesitation, Flames appeared on his forehead and in his hands. He’d done his share of “going through” Iemitsu over the years, and he was always happy for another excuse to punch his father’s face in. (Xanxus approved.) 

“Dame-Tsuna, don’t punch your father,” Reborn scolded. “That’s uncivilized. We’re in the middle of having tea.”

Iemitsu wept bitterly. If this was how he reacted to the announcement, the actual wedding was going to be underwater, probably. 

~.~.~

The wedding was indeed going to be underwater, and Gokudera was determined to help it get there. 

“Juudaimeeeeeeee!” he wailed, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Tsuna sighed. “You can be the best man,” he said. 

At least Gokudera stopped wailing, though he was still in tears. 

“Oh? Is that really okay?” Yamamoto asked, fingering the sheath of his katana. “I mean, won’t Reborn want the job?” 

“Because Reborn’s going to be giving me away,” Tsuna said. 

“Decided that already, did you?” Reborn asked, from behind him. (He had definitely not been there two seconds ago.) 

After so many years, Tsuna had learned not to scream and flinch, but still. That was so annoying. If it had been anyone else, Tsuna would have shot back something like, ‘I can ask Lal, if you don’t want to,’ but playing that game with Reborn wasn’t worth it. 

“You don’t want to see my father’s face when you do it?” he asked instead. 

“I don’t ever want to see Iemitsu’s face,” Reborn corrected. “But it might be worth it. Just barely.” 

~.~.~

Tsuna bitterly regretted his offer, the day of the ceremony. 

“I can’t do this, this is crazy, why did I ever think this was a good idea?” he muttered, pacing in tight circles and tugging at his hair. 

“Stop whining, Dame-Tsuna,” Reborn ordered, completely unsympathetic. He had pointedly blocked off the only way out of the small side room, and had pulled out his gun, even more pointedly. There would be no escape. “You’re the Vongola boss. Suck it up.” 

“I’m going to be married! To Xanxus! I can’t do this!”

“You can and you will,” Reborn said uncompromisingly. “It was your idea. ...I have no idea what you were thinking when you came up with it, but you’ve dug your grave.” 

Stopping in his tracks, Tsuna raised his head slowly. “Yeah...” he agreed. “It was my idea. And I dug my grave.” If he backed out, Xanxus would kill him. If he went through with it, Xanxus would probably also kill him eventually, because Xanxus was a terrifying professional assassin. 

But at least if he did go through with it, Tsuna might get to see Iemitsu spontaneously combust. 

Worth it.

“Okay,” Tsuna said, nodding. “Let’s do this.”

~.~.~

It was everything Tsuna had hoped for — and exactly the kind of circus you’d expect from a Vongola event. 

Iemitsu snapping and trying to strangle Xanxus, while weeping profusely, was only the beginning. The ceremony was interrupted three times, by not less than six rival families — four of them at the “speak now or forever hold your peace” point. They naturally then began to fight amongst themselves for who would interrupt the wedding. 

Absolutely everyone attended. The former Arcobaleno, the Simon, the Cavallone, three quarters of the mafia world, the Namimori Middle School Disciplinary Committee... Tsuna was pretty sure he saw Kawahira at one point. 

The ceremony was presided over by Knuckle because, yes, even the First Generation was there. Primo spent the entire wedding beaming at Tsuna and surreptitiously propping up Nono, who also burst into tears halfway through, going on about his youngest having grown up so much, so much!

Tsuna would forever treasure the memory of Iemitsu getting punched through the roof by his new husband, shortly after their perfunctory peck to seal the deal. 

There was only one problem. A singular problem. A problem of singularity. 

“....There’s only one bed.” 

He should have known he’d forgotten something. 

~.~.~


	8. Dating sim (humor)

**Summary:** (Incomplete) It all started with a package from Giannini. Which turned Tsuna’s life into some kind of harem dating sim, complete with affection point and relationship levels. Tsuna keep accidentally setting off flags left, right, and center. Except with Hibari, whose backstory can only be unlocked at level 5, and Tsuna’s stuck at 2.

——

It all started with a package from Giannini. In other words, it was doomed from the start.

“This new invention is supposed to help a boss — that’s you,” Reborn helpfully explained, “— build stronger ties with his famiglia. Hurry up and put it on, Dame-Tsuna.”

“Don’t all of his inventions explode or not work right?” Tsuna asked dubiously.

Reborn snorted and simply shoved the weird helmet onto Tsuna’s head without further ado. Tsuna yelped, the apparatus on his head letting off something that might have been a siren — possibly an intended feature, possibly a sign of imminent failure and explosion. A terrifying prospect, given that Tsuna couldn’t pull it off no matter how he tried.

Then, there was a sharp pain in his head, and Tsuna fainted, probably. In any case, the next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor, with Reborn prodding him with Leon, in the form of a stick.

“So,” Reborn said, seeing he was awake, “what do you have to say to your handsome, skilled, amazing tutor?”

Tsuna groaned and tried to roll over. That was not the correct answer.

“That’s not making me respect you more as a boss,” Reborn said. Clicking his tongue, he guessed, “Another failure. Oh well.”

‘You sadistic little troll,’ Tsuna thought, kind of wishing to die or at least pass out again. His head was absolutely pounding.

That should have been the end of it. Except it wasn’t.

~.~.~

The next morning, when Tsuna opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling of his room, a mysterious computer-screen like window greeted him.

‘Welcome to Vongola Famiglia Doki-Doki Diary,’ it said.

Tsuna stared at it blankly. Then, he screeched and fell out of bed.

~.~.~

Reborn had gone out the night before, probably to terrorize Giannini, so Tsuna was left alone to figure out this new mess. He wasn’t even that surprised, after his initial flailing. Compared to time travel bazookas, it wasn’t _that_ big a deal.

Apparently, his life was now a video game. Like… a dating sim for gathering famiglia members or something. That’s basically what it said in the pamphlet that had come with the helmet and had been luckily kicked under Tsuna’s bed in the confusion.

Sitting miserably at the breakfast table, Tsuna opened his menu again — which only he could see, floating in thin air — and stared at his relationships and their stats. There were several lists, which included Family, Famiglia, Friends, and a few other. Ominously, there was also a Rivals tab and an Enemies tab. They were locked, but just the sight of them made Tsuna shiver a little.

His Family tab had only two entries, naturally: Nana and Iemitsu. Iemitsu was… enlightening.

 **Iemitsu Sawada** **  
** **Title: Young Lion of Vongola** **  
** **Job: Outside Advisor (Head of CEDEF)** **  
** **Affection Points: 73** **  
** **Relationship Level: 0**

Tsuna had guessed as much, but this basically confirmed it — whether this information came from some Vongola database Giannini had programmed in or from some Fuuta-style psychic hijinks. Iemitsu was involved with the mafia, specifically Vongola. He was also apparently quite important, whatever the CEDEF was.

It was also… interesting to know that Iemitsu held that much affection toward Tsuna. According to the pamphlet, anything between 50 and 79 indicated “strong feelings, such as very close family or friends.” (80 to 99 was “deep, unquestionable devotion.” 100, the upper limit, was “irreplaceable, overflowing love.” It could also go into negatives.)

Of course, their relationship was nonexistent.

Sighing again, Tsuna pushed away his plate.

“Done already, Tsu-kun?” Nana asked, moving to pick it up. “Are you heading to school?”

And then the next weird thing happened. A multiple choice window appeared in front of Tsuna, who also groaned when he recognized it.

 **“Are you heading to school?”** **  
** **A: Yeah. See you later.** **  
** **B: I’ll help with the dishes.** **  
** **C: I’m skipping today.**

Tsuna squinted at them unhappily. Nana waited patiently while he thought. Was that another weird game thing? He didn’t even know.

He might as well go along with it… “I’ll help with the dishes,” Tsuna said, the middle choice lighting up as he spoke.

Nana beamed. “Oh, that’s so sweet, Tsu-kun! But you can just go on ahead, I don’t mind.”

A brightly colored ‘Plus 1 Affection Point’ popped up next to her. ‘So that’s how it works,’ Tsuna thought. Not that it mattered, since his affection points with Nana were already maxed at 100/100. Bizarrely, their relationship was only 3/10.

The two scores — Affection Points and Relationship Level — were not directly connected, apparently. Affection points determined how much other people liked you and how much they were willing to do for you. On the other hand, relationship level determined how well you knew a person and how close they felt to you. So Iemitsu didn’t know anything about Tsuna, and vice versa, while Nana knew a bit, but less than the 5-7 “close friend” range.

Unsurprising, given that Tsuna was pretty much constantly lying to her about the whole mafia thing.

As was his habit, Gokudera was waiting outside the Sawada home’s front gate. Tsuna had told him time and again to just come in, but he never listened. Which, of course, was a sign that their relationship was also rather low.

 **Hayato Gokudera** **  
** **Title: Smoking Bomb** **  
** **Job: Storm Guardian (Candidate)** **  
** **Affection Points: 95** **  
** **Relationship Level: 4**

  1. Gokudera liked him almost as much as humanly possible. Tsuna had no idea how or why.



“Good morning, Juudamie!” Gokudera greeted him energetically.

Before Tsuna could reply, another dialogue option window popped up.

 **“Good morning!”** **  
** **A: Good morning.** **  
** **B: You don’t have to wait outside.** **  
** **C: Stop coming every morning. It’s annoying.**

Tsuna dithered for a moment between the first two options. He was beginning to see a pattern — something neutral, something positive, something negative. Probably. He didn’t really need extra affection points from Gokudera (if he was already this clingy at 95, Tsuna didn’t want to see him at a hundred), but he supposed it would be interesting to see if saying the same thing as always but with the game’s “help” would change anything.

“You don’t have to wait outside. You can come in and get some breakfast,” Tsuna said. The second sentence just slipped out of his mouth.

Gokudera blushed, a ‘Plus 1 Affection Point’ appearing next to him. “I couldn’t do that, Juudaime!” he insisted, however. “It wouldn’t be proper! As your right hand man, it’s my duty to watch for danger and protect you. I can’t afford to get distracted.”

And then came another dialogue option window.

 **“I couldn’t do that!”** **  
** **A: Well, if you say so...** **  
** **B: As my right hand man, you should always be at my side.** **  
** **C: There’s nothing to protect me from here.**

Given the setup so far, Tsuna was surprised to see the response he gave sometimes — that there was nothing dangerous in Namimori and that he didn’t need protection — in the “negative” slot. So Gokudera didn’t like hearing that? Tsuna was almost tempted to select it and find out.

But it was the middle option that drew his attention even more. He would have never thought to say that. Though thinking about it, he supposed it made sense, in a Gokudera kind of way. That guy only seemed to understand right hand man mafia things anyway.

Putting on a smile, Tsuna said, “As my right hand man, you should always be at my side. That means at the breakfast table too!”

Gokudera turned a rather tomato-like red and stammered incoherently. ‘Flag: Right Hand Man!’ appeared next to him, in an even brighter and shinier font.

There was a small section in the pamphlet about “event flags” — supposedly leveling up relationships had multiple prerequisites, which included a certain minimum affection point count, but also doing certain things in a certain order. Unfortunately, the pamphlet was more the kind of thin booklet that came with a game than a strategy guide. It explained just enough so the player didn’t go in blind, but left out enough to make them shell out money for the full walkthrough.

But this wasn’t a normal game, so there was probably no guide to be bought — or looked up online.

Well, he’d figure it out. Tsuna had actually played a dating sim once, though he hadn’t liked it. It had seemed ridiculous, especially since he kept getting the harem ending. Like that could happen in real life.

~.~.~

Yamamoto joined them in class, having been at morning baseball practice.

 **Takeshi Yamamoto** **  
** **Title: Nami-Chuu Idol (Male); Baseball Ace** **  
** **Job: Rain Guardian (Candidate)** **  
** **Affection Points: 80** **  
** **Relationship Level: 5**

Tsuna was very glad that Gokudera couldn’t see that. While Takeshi’s affection was just barely in the “deep devotion” range (why? Tsuna had no idea), their relationship was one point higher, making them “close friends.” It made sense, Tsuna understood Yamamoto a little better than Gokudera, after their talk on the roof. On the other hand, Yamamoto apparently thought the whole mafia thing was a game...

Glancing a few desks over, Tsuna sighed again.

 **Kyoko Sasagawa** **  
** **Title: Nami-Chuu Idol (Female)** **  
** **Job: Student** **  
** **Affection Points: 47** **  
** **Relationship Level: 2**

They were nothing but acquaintances, and she was only “interested” in him as far as affection went.

But wait. True, Tsuna always clammed up and couldn’t say anything to her, but what if the game could suggest some good dialogue choices for Kyoko too? He could raise her affection points and maybe a flag!

This, of course, could only ever be a bad idea, and Tsuna was very fortunate that the teacher arrived before he could try and implement it. As classes began, he quickly zoned out as usual, staring absently out the window and wishing without much hope that this whole weirdo situation would pass quickly.

Then, the next weird thing happened.

“Sawada!” the teacher barked, making Tsuna jump. “Answer the question!”

Tsuna was about to panic — he didn’t even know which question they were on — only to get completely derailed as another dialogue option screen popped up.

 **“Answer the question!”** **  
** **A. I’m sorry, I don’t know.** **  
** **B. 1942.** **  
** **C. Get lost, geezer!**

‘There’s… there’s an answer? Is it right?’ Tsuna wondered. It seemed too simple, too lucky for him, but that answer was in the “positive” slot… Well, what did he have to lose?

“1924,” Tsuna said.

The teacher stared. The class stared. Yamamoto gave him a thumbs up.

Dame-Tsuna had answered a question correctly! Was this a sign of the apocalypse?

And, horror of horrors, several “Plus 1 Affection Point” indicators went off across the class. Urgh. Tsuna could just imagine Reborn’s smug smirk.

~.~.~


	9. Kyoko time travel

**Notes:** I don’t really remember when or why I wrote this, but it’s pretty much just meandering incomplete angst. BTW, Kyoko’s Flame is given like this in the card game. Questionable canonicity, but why not. Maybe it changed due to her traumatic experiences?

~.~.~

**1.**

One morning, Kyoko wakes up thirteen years old — but also twenty three. A first year middle school student, but also about to graduate college, before her entire world came apart in fire and blood. A simple girl, but also the girlfriend of the leader of the world’s strongest mafia family. 

She raises her small, dainty hands toward the ceiling and stares at them without understanding. The blood is gone, and so is the strange ring Tsuna closed her hands around, promising “a second chance” and offering his faith with a pained, shadowed smile. 

He told her everything, in a rushed, desperate stream of words that made so little sense. ‘Tsu-kun,’ Kyoko thinks, and bursts into tears. 

~.~.~

Ryohei rushes into her room halfway through what should be second period. Someone must have told him that she missed class. He takes one look at Kyoko’s puffy, tear-stained, miserable face, peeking out from among the covers where she hasn’t even bothered getting out of bed, and looks ready to commit murder. 

He would commit murder, to protect her. Kyoko knows that now. 

He looks so young, Kyoko thinks, and starts crying again. 

“Kyoko!” Ryohei yells, sounding half angry, half terrified. “Are you okay? I’ll extremely fix it! Who upset you?” 

A group of lunatic criminals who wouldn’t even exist for a decade. Tsuna, maybe. You. 

No, she isn’t really angry at Tsuna or her brother. She is just… Kyoko doesn’t even know. 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Kyoko says, because she can’t stand to see her brother so distressed and frantic. It reminds her too much of… She forces a smile. “But I’m better now, onii-chan. Let’s go to class, okay?” 

~.~.~

Nami-Chuu is a nostalgic sight. So is Hibari, glowering at them for being late. It makes Kyoko smile painfully to remember when Hibari Kyoya was the scariest thing in the word. What happened to him, she wonders, in that future? 

Hibari looks ready to bite them to death, and Ryohei looks ready to fight back, but Kyoko just looks at them tearfully, and they both back down. Even Hibari, it seems, is a teenage boy under all those animal planet metaphors, and squeamish about things like girly feelings. 

Ryohei insists on following her all the way to her classroom, but Kyoko manages to shake him at the door. So it is alone that she steps into the class, momentarily taken aback by all the small, familiar faces that look at her in both interest and boredom. 

There is Hana, still with long hair and probably annoyed at all the monkeys — though she must be the one who told Ryohei that Kyoko missed homeroom. Her pretty face shows relief at the sight of Kyoko, though she quickly schools it into a scolding look. 

There is Yamamoto, smiling like always… but, no, his smile is different than the one Kyoko is used to. It’s too brittle and hollow, she can tell now that she’s older. Gokudera is missing too, and Kyoko realizes that this is before all those strange things — those mafia things — started. 

And there is Tsuna, by the window, wide eyed and uncertain, as he looks at her with worry and relief. Even this far back, he cared about her...

“Sasagawa, good of you to join us,” the teacher says, reprimanding. 

Kyoko tries to smile. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t feeling well,” she repeats her excuse. It’s weak, but with her still puffy, somewhat tear-stained face, the teacher hesitates to press her further. He probably thinks it’s “that” — the female time of mystery and male fear. 

“Y-yes, well, take a seat,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

Unnoticed in his hiding place, Reborn watches the girl move to her desk — and the way his new student’s eyes follow her. “Hmm, so that’s why he looked so disappointed this morning. Worrying about his crush,” Reborn muses. He smirks. “I can use that.” 

~.~.~

That afternoon, three completely bizarre, impossible, ‘it must be the end of the world’  things are witnessed by the students of Namimori Middle School Class 1-A. 

One, Sasagawa Kyoko, the female school idol, asks Sawada Tsuna, the school loser, to eat lunch with her. Absolutely unnatural!

Two, Dame-Tsuna, after completely failing to answer Kyoko until her friend Hana pulls her away and it is too late, then suddenly slumps over, only to jump to his feet a moment later — in only his boxers. The more observant students note a sharp sound like a firecracker going off just before that. 

In his boxers (scandalous!), Dame-Tsuna rushes to Kyoko and declares that he would love to have lunch with her, that day, and every other day, and that he in fact would love to have every meal with her, and be friends. Impossible! Like that would ever happen!

Three, Kyoko smiles prettily and says, “Okay. I’d like that too, Tsu-kun.” …It must be the end of the world. 

(There is also something about Mochida, a kendo match, and Kyoko slapping him, but by that point, everyone is completely numb from shock.)

~.~.~

**2.**

Ryohei insists on walking Kyoko home after school, still worried about her strange behavior that morning. That’s fine. Kyoko has something she needs to talk to him about anyway. 

“Onii-chan,” she starts, as they walk down the empty, peaceful streets, “you know Tsuna-kun, in my class?” 

“Yeah, Sawada,” Ryohei nods. Kyoko talked about him before — she talked about almost all her classmates at one point, but given that Ryohei remembers Tsuna by name, and not the name everyone derisively uses, she must have mentioned him more, even back then. 

“Tsuna-kun… is an extremely important friend, to me,” Kyoko says. 

“Like Hana?” Ryohei asks. 

“Well… kind of,” Kyoko says. “But not exactly.” 

“Like a boyfriend?” Ryohei guesses next. He still looks serious and attentive. Despite what most of the boys in Nami Middle thought, he wasn’t the kind to threaten a boy just because Kyoko liked him. He wasn’t that kind of overprotective. 

Kyoko has to think for a moment before answering. “...No,” she decides finally. The future Tsuna, yes, she’d loved him like that. But ten years was a long time, with many changes. Her Tsu-kun, even if he had the same heart and core, was different from the young boy who hadn’t been able to believe she would deign to have lunch with him. 

“Got it. I’ll keep an eye on him to the extreme,” Ryohei agrees easily. He likes protecting people, after all. “Maybe I’ll ask him to join the Boxing Club. He looks like he could use some extreme training!” 

“Maybe,” Kyoko says, giggling. She hesitates for a moment, then asks, “Um, Onii-chan, what… what did I say about Tsu-kun before?” It’s been a long time; she doesn’t remember what she thought of him back then. Why did she start keeping her eye on Tsuna in the first place? 

“You said he had an extremely nice smile,” Ryohei tells her. “He smiled back, and you said it was extremely nice and you wished he’d smile more.” 

Kyoko stares at him in surprise. She always thought that Tsuna had a nice smile, so open and warm, but this far back? She giggles, fighting down a sudden flash of sadness. She has always been oblivious, hasn’t she?

“Yes,” Kyoko agrees, “he really does. I… want him to keep smiling like that.” Not the bloody shadow of a smile he gave her in the end. That smile… that one, she never wants to see again.  

“Alright! Then I’ll help you protect that smile, to the extreme!” Ryohei promises. 

‘I know,’ Kyoko smiles wryly. ‘You did before, after all.’

~.~.~

Ryohei isn’t the only one to worry about her. Hana drops by in the evening, bearing take out from the noodle place almost perfectly between their houses. 

“I thought you might not be up to cooking tonight,” Hana says. “So? What happened?”

Blunt as always, but Kyoko likes that about her. 

For a moment, Kyoko honestly considers just spilling everything. She’s been thinking about it, on and off, since waking up that morning. Just tell someone. Someone who would know what to make of it. Kyoko knows she’s out of her depth. She knows nothing, aside from Tsuna’s hurried, jumbled explanation, which must have barely scratched the surface. 

But who would believe her? And what could they do if they did? 

So all Kyoko can do it smile, ruefully, and say, “I just… had a bad dream.” 

A nightmare, come to life. Though this reality she finds herself in is like a dream too. Kyoko almost wonders if she’s going to wake up for real soon, but no, this is real. She really has a second chance. 

“It’s just a dream,” Hana says, laying a gentle but firm hand on Kyoko’s shoulder. “It’s not real.” 

“Yeah,” Kyoko agrees. “It’s not real. ...I won’t let it become real.” Before, she let herself just blindly believe in Tsuna, in her brother, and let them carry all the burdens. She’d known that something wasn’t right, but she ignored it, just clinging to her own peace of mind and narrow happiness. It won’t be like that this time. ‘This time, I’ll make sure we’ll make it through,’ she thinks. 

This isn’t what Tsuna wanted, Kyoko is sure. He meant that she would have a chance to stay away from him, from this entire mafia mess. But he was always a little silly. Kyoko loves him, loves her brother. For them, she’ll find a way to become strong. 

Strong enough to change that bloody future. 

~.~.~

**3.**

Well, it’s all well and good to say she’ll change the future, but Kyoko has no idea where to even start. She doesn’t know anything about fighting, and it seems absurd to think that she’ll become strong enough to make a difference where her brother couldn’t. She doesn’t know anything about the mafia either, or about the enemies they’ll be facing. She doesn’t even know about the magic ring that somehow brought her to the past. 

So in the meantime, the only thing she can do is make Ryohei a special breakfast, and pack lunch for three. 

Kyoko walks to school slowly, lingering on the stretch of road where she remembers sometimes running into Tsuna. It pays off — he appears almost on time, accompanied by a toddler in a suit. 

“K-Kyoko-chan!” Tsuna stammers out, turning red. 

“Ciaossu,” the baby greets her. “I’m Reborn, Dame-Tsuna’s home tutor.” 

“Nice to meet you, Reborn,” Kyoko says, smiling. She’s absolutely sure he’s involved, even if she doesn’t know how. 

“I’m also a hitman,” Reborn informs her, watching her closely — puzzled by her lack of reaction. “I’m training Dame-Tsuna to become a mafia boss.” 

Right, she better stop acting so suspicious. 

“Reborn!” Tsuna protests. 

“Sounds like a fun game,” Kyoko giggles. 

Reborn huffs, but apparently believes her. Tsuna does too, laughing awkwardly in relief. 

Hitman, huh? A boy that young? Well, is it really weirder than time travel?

~.~.~

“Sasagawa Kyoko…” Reborn mutters to himself, that afternoon, when he and Tsuna are walking home from school. “Her brother is captain of the Boxing Club. He’d make a good member for your famiglia. You should try to make friends with him, Dame-Tsuna.” He doesn’t really give Kyoko a second thought. Despite her odd arrival the day before, she appeared to be a perfectly normal teenage girl. 

“Reborn, don’t involve Kyoko in this,” Tsuna says, with a surprising show of spine. Reborn aims a shot in his general direction, but even after ducking with a shriek, Tsuna doesn’t back down. “Reborn!”

“You’re free to stop having lunch with her,” Reborn says instead. “But I expect a suitable replacement.” Her bento, stolen from Tsuna, had been quite good. 

And that’s as far as that goes. He has more important things to think about, than Tsuna’s small crush. 

~.~.~

Ten years is a long time, and people can change a lot. Do change a lot. Kyoko knows she changed, though probably more in the last week than in the ten years before. 

But still, most people change a lot. For example, Gokudera Hayato. 

Kyoko stares in surprise when Gokudera saunters into their classroom… and then proceeds to kick Tsuna’s desk, glaring. It’s unnatural. Gokudera, looking at Tsuna with anything but adoration? 

She has no idea how they became friends, but given that Gokudera is from Italy, it seems obvious that it was a mafia thing. It’s better to stay out of it for now, she decides. It worked out the first time after all. 

Instead, Kyoko focuses on helping Hana and Tsuna get along — a tough task, given Hana’s impatience with Tsuna’s fumbling crush on Kyoko, which hasn’t eased yet — and goes to run an errand after school. She’s considering learning some self-defense, if nothing else, but for now a stun gun will do. 

~.~.~

The next morning, Gokudera greets Tsuna the same way he would have for the rest of their school careers, in the other future. 

“Good morning, Tenth!” he declares loudly, making several students turn and stare. 

Ah, it’s Dame-Tsuna being weird again, they think. First, Sasagawa Kyoko, now, Gokudera Hayato. What’s going on with him? 

“By the way, Tenth,” Gokudera continues, making his way to Tsuna and Kyoko. “I noticed you walking with this girl this morning. Naturally, I kept my distance as you asked…” Tsuna is facepalming. “But, I have an important question. Is she your woman? In that case, I will protect her with my life!” 

“W-what? No!” Tsuna denies quickly. “Kyoko-chan is just my friend! It’s not like that!” 

Sitting at her desk and apparently ignoring them, Hana makes a small, disparaging sound. “Of course not,” she mutters. “Kyoko’s her own person.” 

Kyoko just smiles. “No,” she agrees, “Tsuna-kun isn’t my man, just my friend. By the way, do you want to eat lunch with us today? I made an extra bento.” 

Watching them stealthily from the tree beside the window, Reborn frowns a little. The kids all just flail a little, but he sees what a smart turnaround that was. She’s definitely craftier than she looks. But more than that, why did she bring an extra lunch? Not for her friend, who makes her own. Not for her brother; she already gave him his. Not for Reborn, because he can see that there are four bento — one for her, one for Tsuna, one for Reborn, and one extra besides that. 

Did she know that Gokudera had pledged loyalty to Tsuna, the day before…? 

No, that’s just ridiculous. But Reborn can’t quite shake a niggling sense of doubt. 

~.~.~

**4.**

The perfect opportunity to settle his persistent sense of… something regarding Sasagawa Kyoko presents itself to Reborn soon enough. He is trying to buy himself some coffee, only to be — yet again — refused because of that thrice damned curse, when Kyoko steps up and pays for him. 

He’d call it strange, that the girl is so willing to let a toddler drink coffee at all, but then he suspects Nana and Yamamoto wouldn’t think it weird either, so maybe Namimori is just full of weirdos. 

But there is another strange point — Yamamoto. Again, Kyoko just happened to bring an “extra” bento the day after Tsuna secured himself a member for his famiglia. Maybe she just has very good instincts, but it still makes something in Reborn suspicious. 

“Thanks,” he says, meeting Kyoko’s beaming smile. “Why don’t you come by Tsuna’s house tomorrow, so I can pay you back.” 

“Tsuna-kun’s house?” she muses. “That sounds nice. I’ll be there!” 

Of course, Reborn doesn’t tell Tsuna. It’s fun to watch him fluster uselessly, especially when Nana assumes Kyoko is his girlfriend.

“You’re wrong,” Kyoko says, making Tsuna twitch a little, even if he knows it’s true. But it’s what she says next that surprises Reborn. “Tsuna-kun isn’t no good. To me, he’s a precious friend.” 

The Sawada mother and son are surprised too, before Nana stammers out an agreement and an apology. She leaves quickly, while Tsuna is still staring, stunned into silence. 

“Let’s play a game,” Reborn speaks up smoothly. “Russian Roulette. The bullets are fake, of course.” 

Except that they’re not. They’re all Dying Will bullets. He’s interested now — what kind of regrets does a girl like Kyoko have? 

She volunteers to go first, helpfully. Tsuna is a fluttering, nervous mess, and the gun is just strange in Kyoko’s hands, completely out of place, but she holds it up with only a little hesitation and an odd thoughtfulness. Then she pulls the trigger. 

Tsuna screeches in horrified shock as the bullet — real and solid — penetrates, but Kyoko revives in the next moment, her eyes snapping open and the force of her released energy ripping apart her clothing. 

She’s a Mist Flame, to Reborn’s mild surprise. He would have pegged her as a Sun, like her brother, or maybe a Rain. 

She’s also the calm kind of Dying Will. Many women are. 

Kyoko turns to Tsuna, and reaches out. Tsuna is of course frozen in shock, but Reborn subtly readies himself to intervene if she somehow turns out to harbor a murderous regret. She doesn’t — her arms are gentle as they wrap around Tsuna, and she embraces him with great care. 

“I’m sorry, Tsu-kun,” Kyoko says. “I’m so sorry I didn’t support you properly before. I should have been stronger. I should have spoken up. I’ll do my best to stand by you now. I’ll definitely protect your smile, with my Dying Will.” 

“K-Kyoko-chan…?” Tsuna stammers, concern overcoming his stupefaction. His own arms lift, resting gingerly across her back. “It’s okay, Kyoko-chan. I’m… really glad you’re here, now. That’s all I could want. I’m really happy. Thank you…” 

Reborn sighs, mentally, as five minutes pass and Kyoko collapses, returning to normal. At least he knows now that Sasagawa Kyoko is no danger to his student. Her regret is odd, but benevolent. 

And if something still doesn’t feel quite right, he decides to let it go for now.

~.~.~


	10. Time travel, feat. Simon (humor)

**Time travel, feat. Simon (humor)**

~.~.~

What happens when you put together one part of the Trinisette, one ring of unknown but great power, the Vindice’s special teleport Flames, seven objects containing the memories of an entire friendship – including the Pacifier that creates the aforementioned Flames – two teenagers of special bloodlines, and the ghost of one man who just doesn’t know when to give up? 

Time travel. The answer is time travel. 

~.~.~

Tsuna dearly, desperately wishes it wasn’t. He hates time travel, passionately. His last wonderful time travel adventure was actually horrible, and he doesn’t think going in the opposite direction is going to be any better.

But there they are – him, Enma, and Daemon Spade’s ghost. And there they are – Giotto, Cozarto, G, and a whole lot of thugs with weapons and the killing intent to use them. 

The two groups stare at each other for a seemingly endless moment. Then, one really dumb thug yells, “Get them!” 

Tsuna reacts on pure instinct. There are criminal-type people with knives and guns and all manner of somewhat outdated weaponry coming for him, and maybe Tsuna’s only been the heir to the strongest mafia family for a little over a year, but he’s had his share of assassination attempts, high-stakes battles, and just plain brawls. 

He punches the nearest thug in the stomach, making him double over and slide back a ways, then elbows another hard enough to send him flying into the nearest building, which happens to be quite a ways. At this point, Tsuna finally remembers to adjust his strength to facing “normal humans” and not “megalomaniac lunatic of insane power.” 

…Tsuna’s not a normal anymore. His life is not normal. There are more weirdos in it than normal people, he knows more about dealing with weirdos than with his perfectly normal classmates. This is a cruel, cruel realization. 

Enma has also had his share of assassination attempts, but his instinctive reaction is to duck and look for a way out. But he’s still a nice, good boy, and he ends up instinctively pulling his ancestor and Tsuna’s with him as he makes his way out of the fray and behind a building to hide. 

“W-wow…” Giotto murmurs, so busy staring at Tsuna’s quickly darting around form that he almost stumbles into a wall. G, who is smart enough to escape on his own and not need to be dragged away, just barely stops him. 

Cozarto to staring at Enma instead, who stares back in utter shock. This is a mistake because it lets Cozarto notice his eyes, and the distinctive markings within them. Cozarto is a man of bold action, and that includes his hands darting out to grasp Enma’s cheeks, not hard and certainly not painful, but definitely firm enough to keep his head pinned in place and his face turned toward his ancestor. 

“You’re… not one of my cousins,” Cozarto says, sounding entirely too calm – and too interested in entirely the wrong thing. “Who are you?” 

“I’m your great-great-great-grandson,” Enma blurted out. He winces immediately afterwards, but what else could he do? He’s always been a wimp, and his ancestor has charisma in spades even as a teenager. 

“Oh, I see,” Cozarto says, pleased – for some reason. 

“What,” G says flatly, because he’s a sane person. 

“That’s so amazing,” Giotto says, still staring at Tsuna and apparently ignoring everything else. Tsuna, at this point, has just about finished up and moves toward their group quickly. 

“We should go, they might have reinforcements,” he says. 

“He says we should go,” Enma relays, because obviously three kids from a small Italian village aren’t going to speak Japanese any more than Tsuna speaks Italian. 

“I wish I could do that,” Giotto continues wistfully, still ignoring everyone. 

“You can, so let’s go, okay?” Enma blurts out, because he’s worried about reinforcements too and just plain worried. And it has been… a trying time. 

“You definitely can. I mean, your descendant had to get it from somewhere, right?” Cozarto says brightly. Curse him for being both good looking and smart. Or maybe just the type to assume. 

“Descendant?” Giotto says. 

“Descendant,” G repeats blankly, shaking his head like a man whose world has suddenly been turned upside down. 

“Um… W-why are they looking at me like that?” Tsuna says, dropping out of Dying Will Mode in confusion. “Wait. They can see me?! And, and I beat up those guys! This… isn’t another memory, is it.” He looks like the world is ending. 

Giotto pats him on the shoulder and smiles comfortingly, even though he still looks to Cozarto with a confused expression and repeats, “Descendant?” 

Cozarto beams. Enma wishes he could run away. But his ancestor is holding his shoulder a little too tightly. 

~.~.~

When a ghost appears not three feet from Elena – rudely interrupting her make out session with her boyfriend – she instinctively tries to bash his head in with a vase. Daemon is charmed by her all over again. Daemon, the living one, is still too high on the wonders of making out with his girlfriend to understand what’s going on.

“You should dump him. He’s no good for you,” Daemon tells Elena. 

She throws the vase at him and yells, “Get out!!” Even after almost two centuries, Daemon obeys on instinct. 

“Huh? Wha’s go in’ on?” Daemon the younger wonders, blinking and reaching up to wipe at his mouth. 

“I think some ancestor of yours just appeared to tell me what a bad decision you are,” Elena says. “Would you like to explain why?” 

Daemon the younger can only shrug. Daemon the elder, meanwhile, plans to ruin his relationship. Elena always did deserve better. He doesn’t worry too much about Tsuna, Enma, Giotto, Cozarto, or the finer details of time travel. No one ever accused him of thinking too big. 

~.~.~


	11. Summer exchange 2018 (Haru27)

**Notes:** My entry in the 2nd KHR Secret Summer Holiday exchange. This was for Laura lighteningdancer.tumblr.com, and the pairing is Haru/Tsuna as requested.

~.~.~

“Hey Tsuna! You wanna hang out on Sunday?”

Normally, Tsuna would have happily accepted Yamamoto’s offer. Having actual friends who wanted to spend time with him — and not even just because they had nothing better to do — was still something new and wonderful, even though Yamamoto had been his friend for over two years.

Now, however, Tsuna’s smile was strained as he replied, “Sorry, but I already have plans. Next week?”

“Sure thing!” To his credit, Yamamoto didn't give an obvious pause before delivering the socially-expected response or, worse yet, start wailing and demanding to know who had ‘monopolized’ Tsuna’s attention.

Gokudera had been the first of Tsuna’s Guardians to call, and his reaction had left Tsuna’s ears ringing for at least half an hour afterwards. Panicking, Tsuna had admitted that it was Haru he had already agreed to spend time with. That had been the end of the conversation as Gokudera hung up abruptly. It was terrifyingly possible that his Storm Guardian had run off to challenge her to a showdown for Tsuna’s time and attention.

But in the other hand, maybe not. After all, Haru was afforded some special privileges in Gokudera’s view... being “the boss’s woman.”

It was still hard to believe, but Haru was his girlfriend.

Just thinking about it had Tsuna’s face heating up, and he stared dazedly at the wall, phone still clutched in his hand. A dopey smile tugged at his lips.

Dame Tsuna had a girlfriend — a very cute, sweet one at that. Who genuinely cared about him and wanted to spend time with him.

When Haru asked him out the first time, he's agreed mostly on the reflex of a total doormat, his mind going blank from shock. He'd had every intention of breaking it off after their first date, enforced by Reborn’s unsubtle threats about growing a spine. And, predictably, that first date had been a disaster in the way only Vongola could manage.

And yet. Spending time with Haru had been... nice. At the end, he’d realized they had been holding hands the whole time, and the feeling of her fingers interlaced with his had been...

Haru had been nearly in tears over the fiasco their date had become, but maybe Tsuna had gotten used to his famiglia’s a brand of chaos, because he had just smiled.

“I had fun,” he said, and meant it.

Maybe he’d never really thought about Haru like that before. Maybe he’d never really considered dating her. But wasn't dating supposed to be about finding out more about each other to begin with?

He wanted to try.

He wanted—

Tsuna yelped in surprise as the phone he was still clutching started to vibrate again. It slipped out of his grip like a bar of soap, leaving him frantically scrambling to catch it in the world’s worst, saddest show of juggling.

When he finally answered, it was to a deafening roar — as expected of Ryohei. “Sawada!! Let's hang out on Sunday! Extreme training time!”

Tsuna groaned.

~.~.~

What Haru invited Tsuna to was a pair costume contest at the beach. She had promised to take care of the costumes herself, so Tsuna would only need to wear her creation. This, admittedly, should have already set off some alarm bells, given his prior experiences with Haru’s... unique... sensibilities.

Tsuna could admit that he’d been perhaps excessively distracted by the “beach” aspect.

He couldn’t help it! Haru had always been cute, if a little too scary for Tsuna to really notice it beyond a vague factual awareness. But lately, she seemed to somehow keep getting cuter and cuter. And the beach was... well, the beach — aka swimsuits.

Would she go for a bikini like last summer? Or maybe something with frills or ribbons? Of course, there was going to be the costume aspect too. A hula skirt? An apron? Would she stick with the ponytail, or let her hair down? Maybe a few flowers?

There were so many possible fantasies Tsuna had absently considered since they’d made their plans.

None of them matched reality, of course. As he really should have expected.

Haru met him in jogging shorts and a tank top, which was... fine. Very cute, actually. “Over here! Tsuna-san!” she called out, standing on tiptoes and waving enthusiastically over the heads of the other beach-goers. “Come on, we need to start getting ready! Haru’s got everything at our locker backstage!”

The costume contest was being held at a temporary stage, set up next to the boardwalk. A labyrinth of narrow passages and small cubicle changing rooms, separated by cloth walls, all under a mishmash of several broad tent roofs, served as the backstage.

It was already teeming with contestants and their helpers, a dizzying array of bright fabrics, sequins, and flowers, along with an assortment of truly puzzling one-off additions — Tsuna couldn’t help craning his neck to stare at a woman in a feathered headpiece that was almost as tall as her, even after she disappeared into the bustling crowd.

Haru tugged him along by the hand — When had she taken his hand to begin with? N-not that he was against it, it felt rather nice, warm and soft... — toward a slightly less chaotic corner. She waved a greeting to what must have been another contestant pair, who had been watching over a cloth-wrapped bulk that was too large to fit in the narrow lockers set up for their belongings.

Probably, this is the point where Tsuna really, really should have caught on. But instead what came out of his mouth was—

“That looks heavy. You didn’t have to carry it by yourself. I’d be happy to help.”

That was what you did for your girlfriend, right? Carry stuff and open doors?

Probably, since Haru blushed happily. “Hahi! It’s okay, Tsuna-san! Haru carries around costumes all the time. Now, let’s try them on! Haru thinks they turned out especially great this time. Haru will be the dolphin, so Tsuna-san will be the orca!”

...wait.

With a speed that would have impressed Reborn, the master of costumes himself, Haru seemed to put hers on in the time it took her to turn back to Tsuna. And it was, indeed, a dolphin costume. A very large, thickly padded mascot costume of a dolphin, with Haru’s face sticking out of a hole in the dolphin’s... chin? and her bare arms and legs extending from its sides.

Tsuna’s thoughts were roughly like this:

But, bikini? Bikini??

Daydreams of his cute girlfriend in an array of cute swimsuits vanished into smoke. “What do you think, Tsuna-san? Cute, isn’t it?” Haru asked. Well, she was — with her dimples and shining eyes. But the costume... “And here’s yours!”

She held up a lump of white and black — the supposed orca costume. Tsuna’s brain stuttered to a stop.

‘Actually, it’s kind of creepy. It’s not cute at all.’ That would have been the honest answer. But Tsuna knew without a single doubt that there was no way to say that. And what would the point be, anyway? It wasn’t like they could change costumes right before the start of the contest. Haru had worked hard on them, and she was happy, so wasn’t that the important part?

And it wasn’t like Tsuna was unused to public humiliation. Getting laughed at would be a familiar experience, at least.

Fixing a strained smile on his face, Tsuna nodded. “S-sure thing,” he said. “I’ll put it on right away.”

~.~.~

They were entry number 7. It wasn’t a large event, so that put them close to the end, when all the contestants lined up at the stairs up to the stage.

It seemed that everyone else had shared Tsuna’s view of the contest theme — namely, swimsuits with some extra bits. A bride in a white bikini and a veil, with a groom in black swimming trunks and a lone bowtie. A waitress in a onepiece and an apron, her partner in a long apron as well. A... fruit lady(?) in a colorful bikini and a giant pile of (fake) fruit on her head...

Most of those in line were too focused or too busy to pay them much heed, but the snickering was already starting as several pairs snuck jeering glances at the mascot sealife duo. Haru didn’t seem to notice, all but vibrating with excitement, and Tsuna struggled to keep his unconvincing smile in place for her sake.

Sweat beaded on his neck — all over his body, actually. The costume was heavy and thick. How did Haru stand it....?

Another wave of applause and cheers rolled over from the stage, almost drowning out the announcer’s slightly staticky voice. There was no one left in front of them on the stairs up.

‘Hiiieeeee—! I can’t do this after all!’ Tsuna wailed mentally, tearing up.

Haru gasped excitedly, squeezing his hand. “We’re next!” she beamed. “Are you ready, Tsuna-san?”

...Fuuta was completely right, he was a complete doormat. “Yes,” Tsuna lied.

“And now, our next pair — Number Seven!” the old speakers boomed scratchily. “Come on out!”

The exact moment when the crowd caught sight of them was obvious — the polite clapping jarred into confused silence, followed by a few puzzled murmurs. “Hi, everybody!” Haru greeted the audience with blissful cheer, holding up her and Tsuna’s joined hands. “We’re number seven, Haru and Tsuna! And our theme is ‘a show at sealand!’ I hope you enjoy our performance!”

“...Right! What a... summer-appropriate theme!” the announcer quickly rallied, almost fumbling the microphone.

Someone laughed. It was like the opening of a floodgate, and the next moment, the entire crowd was howling. Even Haru, for all her ability to completely misread the atmosphere, could tell it wasn’t friendly laughter, and her smile wavered.

Tsuna’s cheeks were burning with humiliation, but it was admittedly hardly a new experience. Compared to running around in his boxers, head on fire as he screamed about his dying will, a silly-looking mascot costume didn’t come anywhere near his worst experiences ever. It was his turn to squeeze Haru’s hand in reassurance.

“Hahaha, yes... Hehe, th-thank you for the warm welcome to our, haha, contestants,” the announcer tried to keep his own laughter down — and failed. “They are certainly a, hehehe, unique pair! Quite the—”

From somewhere in the crowd, something came rocketing toward the stage.

It was a completely normal flipflop, but it had blazed past with the speed of the fastest possible baseball pitch — or a cannon shell. It had also cut barely past the announcer, ruffling his hair and making his gaudy sunglasses slip.

All noise cut abruptly, and the crowd instinctively parted, revealing the perpetrator... and his accomplices. Well, Tsuna could guess which one of the young men left standing in the clear had done it. Mentally, he groaned. He should have seen this coming too.

Gokudera, oversized sunglasses doing nothing to hide his distinctive hair. Yamamoto, doing a passable job hiding with a baseball cap pulled low over his face, at least until he started radiating menace in a way only a natural born hitman could. Ryohei with his hood up, somehow looking more like a gangster than the actual mafioso next to him. Kyoko, smiling blandly next to him (her too??). And now that Tsuna scanned the surrounding area, he could see a glimpse of awfully familiar red, a pineapple shape, and other such telltale signs.

He had honestly thought his Guardians and assorted other friends stopped following him on dates after the third one. But Reborn had probably encouraged it behind his back, citing something about their duty to protect the boss or whatever.

“What the hell you losers laughin’ at?!” Gokudera roared like the delinquent he was. “Huh?!”

“That’s not extreme at all!” Ryohei agreed, punching one fist into the opposite palm threateningly.

Tsuna groaned and facepalmed. “Why....” he muttered to himself. Why was it always like this? The orca costume’s nose bobbed up and down as he shuddered.

“Maa, maa... Let’s continue the contest, okay?” Yamamoto pretended to be the voice of reason, but the look he shot the announcer was downright chilling. Especially when he held up the matching flipflop to the one he’d thrown like a cannonball.

“Ye-ye-ye-yes! L-let’s keep continue!” the announcer stammered out. “L-l-let’s see Number Seven’s skit!”

“Go, Number Seven!” Kyoko cheered, her smile entirely benign and unwavering. Creepily so, given the circumstances.

Tsuna turned slowly and unwilling. He was afraid of what Haru’s reaction to all this might be. Surely, she would eventually get tired of the third ring circus every aspect of his life inevitably became. Who would be okay with every date being a fiasco? So, was this finally the day...?

“Pffft!”

The corners of Haru’s mouth had curled up as she struggled to stifle a giggle. ...Right. Tsuna’s circle of Guardians and assorted other friends included her. She was more than accustomed to the chaos. In fact, she must have enjoyed it at least a little, to stick through with them through everything.

“Hahi! OK! Please watch Haru and Tsuna-san’s show!” she declared, holding up the colorful beach ball she’d been carrying.

~.~.~

They won. By cheating via intimidation, to be perfectly frank. Tsuna didn’t see his friends giving the judges grief, but he had faith in their lack of proper moral compass.

“I’m so sorry,” he moaned into the cheap plastic table as he and Haru treated themselves to celebratory shaved ice afterwards. “It always ends up like this. I’m really sorry, Haru.”

She laughed, her tongue deep blue from the raspberry syrup she’d chosen. “It’s okay, Tsuna-san! It was nice of everyone to come support us!” Haru beamed. “And, um... thank you for going out with Haru...” Her blush was really cute.

Really, his girlfriend was just so cute. Despite the mortifying heat burning away his ears, Tsuna couldn’t help grinning too. Ducking his head, he hesitantly slid his hand across the table and curled a couple fingers around hers. “Thanks for inviting me. I’m, um.... really happy to spend time with you, Haru.”

Haru averted her eyes, her smile softening shyly. They were both leaning in now, slowly. Tsuna’s mind had blanked again, aside from a continuous sort of ‘hiiiiiiieeeeeeee——’ This was it, it was really going to happen—

Something prinkled at the back of his neck, and Tsuna froze.

He turned to look over his shoulder, already dreading what he would find. It was exactly what he expected — although they tried to duck behind the corner, he still caught a glimpse of silver hair, baseball cap, bandaged nose. On the opposite side of the street, there were others too, diving into hiding as he swept his gaze toward them.

Could he have one moment of privacy? Was that too much to ask for?

Unfortunately for him, dating the Vongola Decimo involved functionally dating all of Vongola.

Realizing belatedly that he’d left Haru in leaning in for a k-k-k-kiss, Tsuna spun back around, apologies already on his lips. But instead, he was greeted with a peck on the cheek that brought him up short. Smiling, Haru dropped back in her seat and took another big spoonful of her shaved ice.

Fortunately for him, he was dating a girl who didn’t mind getting all of Vongola as part of the package.

~.~.~ 


	12. Halloween exchange 2018 (27&69)

**Summary:** Mukuro tries to summon a demon. Instead, he gets Tsuna. 

**Notes:** This is my Halloween exchange gift for @theincrediblemoonchild! It’s kind of messy because I wasn’t.... exactly sure where I was going with this....

~.~.~

The first time Mukuro summoned Tsuna, the two of them stared at each other blankly for a full minute. 

Mukuro’s thoughts went roughly like this: ‘I did everything perfectly, so why didn’t the summoning circle work? This is a demon? It can’t be. It’s so small and fluffy. Is it faking? What the hell. What the hell.’ 

Tsuna’s thoughts went roughly like this: [inarticulate inhuman screeching] 

It was Mukuro’s first time summoning a demon in general. It was also Tsuna’s first time being summoned. Amateur hour all around. And like true amateurs, both of them completely froze, forgetting the script. 

Tsuna recovered first. 

“Sorry! Bye!!” he shouted frantically, flinging one hand up woodenly in something that might have been a wave or a salute — and popped out of existence. 

Mukuro, who had almost mentally rebooted, was sent back into shock. 

Because seriously, what the hell??

When he finally recovered, his scream of rage echoed through the abandoned mansion and all the way to the nearest town. Babies cried. A murder of crows took to the skies. An ominous wind blew through the tries. In the distance, lightning flashed. These were completely unrelated to the furious teenager screaming his head off, however. 

Safely back home in Pandemonium (aka the demon world aka Hell), Tsuna sneezed and sniffled a little. Oh Lord Satan, what if he picked up some weird human world disease too? He was definitely never going back there. 

~.~.~ 

Magic circle, check. Candles, check. Salt lines, check. Rune-inscribed collar, check. The ritual was ready. 

Throwing back his head, Mukuro cackled. “Kufufufu! Kufufufufu!! This time, I won’t hesitate! You’ll be under my control in no time, demon!” he swore. Clasping his hands together, he began to chant, “Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae...” 

His pronunciation was terrible. But fortunately, the summoning ritual had the inclinations of a tired middle school teacher very eager to get the student/summoner out the door. In other words, close enough worked in the same way as with hand grenades. 

(Demons were, on average, more dangerous than hand grenades. Not this particular demon, of course, but on average.) 

The magic circle glowed, brighter and brighter. The candles flared, each flame becoming a torch in its own right. A fierce wind ripped through the room. 

Mukuro narrowed his eyes, squinting as much as he could, but didn’t close them. 

There was a pop, and everything suddenly went still. 

“Oh no...” Tsuna breathed, finding himself again the human world, standing in the middle of a summoning ritual. “Oh no.” 

“Oh yes!” Mukuro smirked. “Now, bow to me, demon!” 

He gestured sharply, and the enchanted collar flew out of the shadows like a very terrifying frisbee. Tsuna squawked as it closed around his neck and tugged at it with a great deal of doubt — but without much actual concern. 

“I have you now! You will obey my every command!” Mukuro gloated. “You belong to me, kufufufu—!” 

“Um,” Tsuna said slowly. “Um. S-sorry, but... I’m not that kind of demon.” 

This was not how people reacted to Mukuro’s... Mukuro. But it seemed to be how demons reacted. Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Mukuro cut off mid-cackle. 

“I’m not a succubus,” Tsuna clarified helpfully. His expression was entirely earnest as he wrung his hands. “I’m not really into this kind of... um, kinky stuff. Not that I’m judging! You do you, and all that! Just, you know, with consent. And I uh don’t... consent. To that. Sorry! I’m sorry! Bye!!” 

And, with another pop, he was gone. 

Frankly, Mukuro was too furious to even scream this time. 

~.~.~

The thing was, Mukuro’s summoning attempts were not... precisely well-timed, the second time. Not for Tsuna, anyway. He had been in the middle of tea with Haru when he suddenly popped over to the human world, and Haru had still been there when he returned... flustered... and in a collar...

Haru, the demon — figuratively only, she was actually a witch, not a real demon — took one look at him and began to grin. 

“Hahi! Is that what you’re into, Tsuna-san? Haru didn’t expect that of you!” she crowed. 

At least it was Haru, and not one of Tsuna’s other friends. Their reaction would have been much louder and much harder to manage. This was poor comfort, however, as Tsuna’s ears burned, and he frantically pulled at the engraved collar with actual force this time. 

It bent apart in his grip like putty. This was not because Mukuro had made a mistake when enchanting it, but rather because of the difference between the level of summoning ritual he had used versus the level of the containment spell. In other words, Mukuro had absolutely no idea of how strong a demon he had summoned twice already because that part of the summoning instructions had gotten washed out by what looked like a massive coffee stain, or maybe arterial blood spray. It was hard to tell. 

Mukuro would not figure out that part for a while yet. It would not make the situation any clearer when he did. If anything, knowing Tsuna’s actual position in Hell’s hierarchy just made everything harder to believe. 

To be fair to Mukuro. Tsuna looked nothing like his description in the Lesser Key and acted even less like one of the great demons of the Goetia should. 

Case in point: 

“I-it’s not like that, Haru!” he whined. “Come on!” 

Of course, he had to explain then. At the end, Haru burst out laughing because all of Tsuna’s friends were terrible. (They were demons, or demon contractors, or unrepentant sinners one way or another, so that was probably to be expected.) 

“Haru!” 

“G-give me a moment,” she managed to stutter out between giggles. “Heeheehee, okay, okay, heehee, a-almost done...” 

Huffing, Tsuna crossed his arms and looked away with a pout. 

“Okay, Haru is done now,” she said finally, though she was still grinning as she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “But you know, it’s a bit mean of you, Tsuna-san, just leaving him like that without even finding out what he wants.” 

“...Really? I was mean?” Tsuna said with obvious and misplaced excitement. 

No one had ever accused him of being mean before. He was finally acting demon-like! 

Haru deadpanned. “Unbecoming of a Count,” she corrected, making Tsuna’s sparkling expression shatter. “He was trying so hard and even summoned you twice. You should at least see what he’s after.” 

This wasn’t any kind of rule or requirement. Plenty of demons simply killed the summoner for the insult of invoking them at all, after all. But just running away was... embarrassing. Ridiculous. Definitely unbecoming for a Count of Hell, leader of legions. 

“...But going back to ask would be so...” Tsuna made a face. 

Tapping her chin, Haru hummed thoughtfully. “Well, if he summons you a third time, then you can act like it was a test on purpose,” she suggested. “But really, Tsuna-san. He’s just a human. Freaking out like that is just silly! What’s he going to do, possess you?” 

She snorted. What a silly notion, after all. For some reason, Tsuna felt a chill in his non-existent soul. 

In another life, that would have been a thing. But not in this one. 

~.~.~

Thinking about it logically, it was obvious that whatever Mukuro had summoned wouldn’t fulfill his goal. That fluffy, scaredy thing wiping out the mafia? Not a chance. So there was no point in summoning it again. The smart, logical thing would have been to find another summoning ritual and call up a different demon altogether... 

Mukuro was smart, but logical? Not so much. That went a little too close to sane and rational, both of which he utterly lacked in. No, Mukuro’s nature was to obsess, and obsess he did. 

Run away from him? Call him a creepy pervert? Subvert all his efforts and take him completely off guard? Twice?? Unacceptable. He’d show that demon. 

Doing the same thing twice and expecting a different result is madness. Doing it three times? Rokudo Mukuro, everyone. 

With an unfortunately familiar pop, the cutest demon in Hell appeared in the summoning circle once more. But unlike before, Tsuna’s expression was screwed up in determination. He still vaguely looked like he was about to cry though. 

“You! Don’t even think about running away!” Mukuro snapped, stabbing a finger toward Tsuna. 

Squeaking, Tsuna threw his hands up like an innocent bystander at a bank robbery. 

“Good,” Mukuro said, watching with narrowed eyes for any sign of disobedience. 

...This was as far as he’d planned. 

They stared at each other for several long moments, before Tsuna finally muttered, mutinously, “I wasn’t going to anyway. Y-you summoned me three times, so you... you pass!” Despite his best efforts, it didn’t come out very impressively or suitably for a great demon. His ears burned, and he had to close his eyes to avoid seeing the summoner’s expression. “You, uh, proved your... determination? So I will grant, er, no, consider your request! S-so say it already! What do you want?” 

The content of his words was passable, but the delivery definitely deserved no better than a failing grade. To the end, in all things, Tsuna was consistently “no good.” 

“Wipe out the mafia,” Mukuro replied without hesitation. 

“No way,” Tsuna shot back just as quickly, his voice squeaking as his mouth fell open in disbelief. 

Both in terms of wishes he was willing to grant and things that were reasonably possible, this request was bound to be denied. Not only was Tsuna on the opposite side of the spectrum from bloodthirsty, but wiping out an entire group based on a nebulous characteristic like “they are mafia” wasn’t really viable anyway. It was too vague to even anchor a curse to. So how would you do it anyway, aside from killing everyone potentially connected to the concept...? 

Wait, why was Tsuna even trying to consider it. It wasn’t happening, period. 

Mukuro scowled. Despite receiving the answer he expected, he turned up his nose and sneered. “Are you really a demon? How pathetic.” 

Well, he was far from the first to accuse Tsuna of being un-demonic. And he wasn’t precisely wrong. But still... 

Unexpectedly, Tsuna felt kind of annoyed by this. He’d tried his best and worked up the courage to offer his help, and instead he got insulted and rejected. It wasn’t his fault the summoner’s request was so unreasonable! His own shortcomings aside, who would take that on anyway? 

“C-come on, can’t you pick something else?” he tried, wheedling. 

Mukuro crossed his arms and sneered. “No,” he declared. “Wipe out the mafia. Or are demons too weak to grant a simple wish?” 

“Simple? That’s not simple!” Tsuna protested indignantly. “You don’t need a demon for that, you need an evil god! And I’m not even sure that would work, they’d just try because they love mass murder! It’s too unreasonable! Pick something else!” 

“No!” Mukuro shot back. His right eye flared red, throwing out its power. “Wipe out the mafia!” 

Unfortunately, it had no effect on a demon of Tsuna’s caliber. “No!” Tsuna yelled in return, having worked himself up too much to cower. “Pick something else!” 

“No!” 

“Just do it!” 

“I won’t!” 

Glaring furiously, they fell into a stalemate. Then, with a perfectly synchronized huff, they pointedly turned away from each other, glaring into thin air instead. For a while, there was only a tense silence as both of them tried to gather their composure — and also the tattered remains of their dignity, as they became increasingly aware that they had just descended into squabbling like five year olds. 

(In fact, Tsuna had several times had almost this exact argument with an actual five year old. That was probably why he’d fallen into it so easily. What was Mukuro’s excuse?) 

“What kind of demon are you, anyway?” Mukuro muttered sulkily, finally breaking the stalemate. “Can’t even grant one wish...” 

Tsuna threw up his hands in frustration, but didn’t turn around. “Pick another wish!” he repeated yet again. “I’ll grant it, just pick something else!” 

“No,” Mukuro refused stubbornly — petulantly, at this point. 

(That was his excuse for squabbling like a five year old. At his heart, that was about his level of emotional maturity.) 

Hearing those tones was painfully familiar to Tsuna. That was exactly the way Lambo would mumble, “no, I don’t wanna,” as he dug in his heels about some stupid matter like whether they would have nothing but candy for dinner. Just hearing it made Tsuna feel exhausted. 

Well, fine. If this human was going to act like Lambo, Tsuna would treat him like Lambo too. 

And the best strategy for dealing with that dumb cow was simply to outlast him. 

“OK,” Tsuna agreed. 

The easy acceptance immediately raised Mukuro’s suspicions, and he turned around to shoot him a glare. “You’ll wipe out the mafia?” 

“I already said I wouldn’t,” Tsuna said, quite calmly now. 

“I’m not going to wish for anything else,” Mukuro shot back. 

“OK,” Tsuna repeated. “I’ll just wait until you do.” 

Mukuro spluttered. He couldn’t just do that? Could he? That was cheating! “I won’t!” he insisted helplessly. “I’m not going to wish for anything else. 

“OK,” Tsuna ‘agreed.’ 

‘I don’t want any, I’m not hungry!’ Lambo would wail. ‘I’m never gonna eat it!’ he’d say. And then half an hour later, he’d forget all about it and eat whatever Tsuna gave him. 

Mukuro was obviously going to be a bit more stubborn than that, but Tsuna was a demon. He didn’t need to eat or sleep, and there was little in the mortal world that could injure him. He could kill a bit of time following this human around. 

...Better than going back empty handed and enduring Haru’s jeering or his own injured pride. 

“...Fine,” Mukuro snapped. His eyes narrowed calculatingly, but Tsuna ignored that. 

“Fine,” he agreed. 

“Fine!” 

Snarling in annoyance, Mukuro pointedly turned away again. 

Why had he thought summoning a demon was a good idea in the first place? His head was pounding, and he had nothing to show for the wasted effort of making the summoning three times. Nothing aside from the small fluffy thing now hovering over his shoulder, looking around with less curiosity and more disapproval. 

“You’re not actually living here, right?” Tsuna asked. “It doesn’t look safe. Or healthy.” 

Mukuro seriously considered trying to stab him. 

Something had definitely gone wrong. This was not at all how demon summoning was meant to go. ...He had a very bad feeling about the future. Almost like he was going to deeply regret involving himself with demons, and with this demon in particular. 

The third time Mukuro summoned Tsuna was also the last time, since Tsuna just... never left, to their mutual consternation. He really should have just given up two times ago. He had no one but himself to blame. 

~.~.~


End file.
